Tragic Kingdom
by goatheart
Summary: A sweeping epic reuniting the scattered Jessie, James, Meowth, Ash, Misty and Brock, five years after tragedy split them apart. On a cruise ship with a whole lot of unfinished business: there's nowhere to run.
1. Prologue

**a/n:** This fic happens to be my brainchild. I think I started writing this ages ago, but have rewritten it so many times, I'm only posting it now. I'm never quite sure what to say in my author's notes, maybe I should just stop writing them, but I want to damn it, even if they are complete rubbish. I'm quite excited to finally be posting this, so please enjoy it!

**disclaimer: I don't own pokemon. Awww...**

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**Tragic Kingdom: Act I**

**The Prologue**

_"Thus I pacified psyche and kissed her, And tempted her out of her gloom."_

There was something about the color of the sky that cold winter. No trace of blue could be seen. Only grey masses of cloud hung stagnant overhead like an impenetrable wall, to any who observed it, it was like sorrow blocking out all warmth or light. A constant drizzle had kept up the whole day, leaving the streets of Vermillion wet and dreary. That's why it was odd to see a lone figure walking quickly down the pavilion. The insistent bluster of the soggy wind bothered Jessie as she walked, leaning forward against the wind's perseverance, it whipped her chin length hair into her eyes and made it difficult to see. There was a heavy fog drifting along the coast, a cold front that had its origins in the Seafoam Islands so visibility was minimal. There were no boats out at sea that day as the ocean was rough and thrust against the shore in large billowing crests and then sucked back into itself with the roar of a monster. Wingull floated above, smears of white against the gloomy sky, bobbing in the air against the wind. They squawked but it couldn't be heard through the wind's howls.

_-It howled even then when she slipped quietly through the rotten, crumbling door. The hinges rattling loudly in her ears prompted her stomach to churn in anxiety. But she couldn't hear anything else save the morning birds beginning their time-old day song. She crept into the waist high grass, keeping low to the ground and sticking closely to the wall. Usually she would look with distaste on the unruly garden, disliking how the grass grew without tending and how the weeds had overrun the flowers, but today she was glad to look at it for she'd never see it again if all went well. The gale buffeted the backs of her legs sending goose bumps up her entire body. She was in sight of the gate now. If she failed today then…-_

The ocean yawned out before her like the maw of a giant creature, a kin to a gyarados perhaps, it looked as if it was ready to eat her up. It had an enchanting quality to it even like that of a sweet smelling bellsprout just before it snaps down shut on its lured prey. The waves rushed against each other in oily swills stirring up a thick foam, almost predator like, salivating and gnashing its teeth. She was drawn to it. The wind urged her towards the shore, she stepped from the boundaries of the pavilion and onto the sand. Her shoes sunk into the soft grain. She trudged towards waves, discarding her socks and shoes, as she ran straight into the surf. Salty air ran its fingertips through her hair and the ocean surged around her ankles.

_-The handle was wet when she touched it. She stole a glance back at the house. All the curtains were drawn and the rickety shed door was veering wildly off its hinges in the wind. Jessie cringed with every shriek it emitted. She wasted little time, pulling down the handle and disappearing into the thick fog rolling down the street, she heard a shout behind her-_

Her skirt fluttered around her knees twisting to the wind's every whim. The skirt had been acquired exactly five years ago. It was a wispy sky blue number that fell in folds to her knees. It wasn't the most practical skirt for travel but it was her favourite one because it was her only memory of her past freedom. It had become a symbol now.

_-She started and began running. She had never run as fast or as feverishly as she did then. She ran like a frightened buneary would from a mightyena. Even though her chest began to burn she didn't stop, knowing that the fire she would experience if she got caught would be much worse than the one engulfing her lungs. She wouldn't give up so easily. She knew that this was her last chance and she couldn't let it slip. She only had one shot. She could not miss this time-_

Jessie looked up. There was something on the beach behind her. She stared hard at it, hardly believing what her eyes were seeing. A great hulking shadow that was neither threatening nor comforting watched her from the head of the shore. It had white somber eyes, pupil-less, and a fragmented body that seemed to be breaking up and re-assembling as she watched. It had ragged ribbon-like appendages fluttering in the ocean breeze. A lot like the sacred pokemon god, Suicune. But it couldn't be Suicune. What was it? She wondered if she was hallucinating. Was she high on the opiate that

was freedom? Maybe. In any case the apparition disappeared.

_-time it had slipped so quickly away from her like the wind that flew against her as she ran. She couldn't hear anything. She blocked out everything. She was completely focused. But suddenly she felt a hand on her arm, strong, she stopped. But she didn't know why. She was trying to escape…no…don't take me back…I… _

"_Jess…"-_

Jessie fell into the waves, as her knees gave way, her breath was caught in her throat. She continued to stare at the place where the apparition had been before it had vanished, as if expecting it to re-appear again. Although she was sure that it was just a manifestation of her sub-conscious she still felt fear within her. What business had such a creature visiting her, what did it want to tell her?

_-She looked back, afraid. Was this the end of the road? But it was only the girl. Dolly. One of my captors but not the dangerous one. Jessie relaxed but only a little. Would the child alert her father? Would she try and stop Jessie? Would she ask questions? But then Jessie looked at her, really looked, and saw that she was crying. How odd. The child had developed affection for her. Why...?-_

Jessie stood in the cold, her attention back to the ocean. She didn't feel like herself. She was a lost soul, she had no one anymore, she was a flower ripped out of a garden and planted amongst weeds. That made her a weed technically. The outsider. The lonely. Rootless. She cried. Who was she now? How would she know her future, her destination if she didn't even know the woman who looked back at her from the mirror? Who was there to remind her of who she was? There was no one anymore.

She watched the water collect around her waist, creating current around her. The world went on, whether she was here or there. It went on.

_- "Where are you going?" She asked, quietly. "Why are you running?" She knew so little, understood so little. Didn't she see Jessie as Jessie saw herself? Did she not see the shackles and the chains? Or the cold wind and dirty hands? Didn't she wonder where the dignity was or why Jessie slept in a shed while she slept in a warm house? How could she possibly not see all these things? Jessie looked into the child's eyes and tried to see what had caused such distortion? Where was the truth and reality? Jessie looked away, she couldn't bear the emptiness. _

"_I-" she began. But she couldn't explain anything, at least not the truth of the matter. The girl wouldn't understand. "I'm going to the grocers, I'll be back in an hour. If I'm not, then…" She trailed off, unsure what to say. The girl was smiling enigmaticly. _

"_I'll be waiting." She said. And that was it. Jessie was free. So, quite simply, she walked away. -_

Now she stood, completely submerged in the present. She was actually standing on a road that had suddenly split into two. She had to decide which route to take. It was difficult. She had no map. How would she decide? She looked down at her dress, completely drenched in sea water, floating bloated on the water's surface. A symbol, indeed. Where had she left off? Who were those smiling faces that she missed so much? Could she go back to the only friends she'd ever had?

The dress billowed in the wind, dragging her towards her destiny.

"I'm going back." She whispered. "I'm coming back."

_James. _

_I'm coming back to you. _

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I wonder if anyone can place who the authors of the quotes are at the head of each chapter are? A super awesome shiny meowth will be handed out to anyone who suceeds! Please review! I know you want to ;)


	2. Act I: Part One

**a/n: **And onto Part One, in this exciting installment of Tragic Kingdom, Jessie finds her hero, and discovers that as much as she's changed so has everybody else! Please enjoy!

**disclaimer: I don't own pokemon.**

**Tragic Kingdom: Act I**

**Part One**

**Chapter One**

_Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before._

The address scribbled on the paper stated that the house Jessie was looking for was somewhere in Gold Brook, an upper-class neighborhood somewhere on the outskirts of Saffron City. However Jessie had no idea where that was. Saffron was a huge city, the largest in Kanto, and the business capital. This wouldn't be a bad thing except for how little Jessie knew of Saffron's geography. And she wasn't very confidant either. She wasn't used to traveling or being on the road anymore having been trapped in Vermillion City the last five years. So she neatly folded the square of paper and put it back in her pocket before adjusting the red travel bag that was slung over her shoulder then she disappeared into the crowd of people that throbbed through Saffron Metrorail Station.

She made her way through the hordes of travelers towards the doors, feeling incredibly uncomfortable and claustrophobic in the stuffy hall. People pushed past her without regard, throwing her about as if she were a floundering fish in a fast moving current. She hung onto her bag tightly almost as if it were a lifebuoy. When she finally stepped outdoors onto the street and into the warm summer sun she let out a deep sigh, relieved. She'd made it!

Then her relief faded when she looked at the bustling city that was Saffron. It looked like there even more people, if that were possible, streaming up and down that one street of Saffron City than there were in the station. The place was a huge metropolis of tall buildings and long straight street grids. Jessie didn't like how busy and commercial it was and longed for something more rural and homely.

The short strands of her red hair flipped back in the balmy breeze. She didn't mind that. Saffron had great weather almost year round. It was almost always warm with a complimenting breeze. It was soothing. However the din of the horde and the traffic wasn't.

She stopped at an intersection, to look once more at the address. She had no idea of how to get to the house she was looking for. She looked around hopelessly for someone to give her directions.

The people around her, all going about their own business, ignored the somewhat scruffy looking red head. Even when she tried to speak to them they would avert their eyes. She sighed, and then caught sight of herself in the reflective side of a building. She looked like a beggar. There was no way she could go to _his _house looking the way she did let alone ask for help from a Saffroner.

A car zoomed past hooting loudly.

She looked in her purse to see if she had any money to buy proper clothes. Even though she knew there was nothing there. She half imagined a puff of dust and a half dead fly came whizzing out of her empty purse. She'd spent it all on the train ride here.

Shit. What now?

She leaned against a wall, sinking to the floor. Someone walking past made a face. The sidewalks were as dirty as anything but so was Jessie so she didn't mind.

She pulled out the paper with the address on it again. _23 Crystal Shrub Avn, Gold Brook_. Was it so difficult to find? She knitted her brow. And for that matter was she so easy to defeat? Wasn't she the same Jessie that used to work for the infamous Team Rocket? Wasn't she the same Jessie with the legendary temper? Well, wasn't she? Even if it was six years ago the old Jessie couldn't have died altogether. There must still be a little bit of life left within her. There must be! She would try again.

She curled her fist. The summer sun shone brightly.

It was strange, she thought that she found it difficult to do such a simple thing as find someone's house when she'd been through so much worse. The last few years had been a living hell. A nightmare that was real. She was still amazed that she was alive today, that she was still breathing and still able to see the colour of the sun and feel the coolness of a breeze after all she'd been through. Only a few days ago, all those things had been numb to her. She'd stopped seeing in color, feeling things physical and emotional, tasting, and scent. Comprehendible thought. Those things had left her. Until a few days ago. She'd escaped.

Someone knocked into her. She fell to the ground, winded. Her bag fell off her shoulder. She gasped and grabbed at it before it was knocked away by the crowd. She clung to it, refusing to let go.

The person who'd bumped her, a man, didn't even stop to help her up. He disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as he'd appeared out of nowhere. Jessie got up once more, brushing herself off and staring into the crowd after him. But he was gone.

If it was the old Jessie of six years ago she might have screamed at him or even rough him up on the streets but she wasn't. She left it and continued on her way, feeling a deep sense of self-disgust well up inside her. She really wasn't the old Jessie anymore. There might not even be anything left of the old one.

Hours later Jessie still hadn't found her destination and her nervousness was starting to become panic. The confidence and determination she'd worked up before had faded and she was left feeling empty and hopeless.

What to do? What to do? She quivered. The traffic was loud and overwhelming. How she hated the cities!

The sun had set about a half hour before. Evening had come and the air had cooled considerably. Jessie was dressed lightly. Goosebumps rippled up and down her arms. She tugged the sleeves of her t-shirt so that they would cover a little more skin but it was useless. She really was getting desperate.

She had stopped for a short break, hugging herself beneath a street light, shivering, whilst people passed by. She noted that there weren't as many people as before. The crowds had dwindled and now only youths were on the streets. Young people looking for fun and alcohol. Maybe they'd be more receptive to her?

"Excuse me?" She asked of a young man walking with a group of friends down the street. "Could you tell me where Gold Brook is? I'm not from here and-"

"Why are _you _looking for Gold Brook? Have you got 'work' there?" He asked smirking. His friends laughed appreciatively. Nothing and no one was sacred when teenagers wanted to joke.

She narrowed her eyes, quickly catching on to where he was going. She bristled internally but she also needed his help so instead she sighed and said, "I'm _not _a prostitute. Please tell me where Gold Brook is?"

He laughed. "Sure lady. I'm sure you're just out for my wallet. Well here let me make it easier for you." He flicked a note at her. It fluttered to her feet. P$100. She was mildly horrified at how rude he was. It was amazing how people treated you when your clothes looked dirty and your hair wasn't washed, she thought.

He and his friends laughed raucously and continued walking. She ignored their comments, waiting. When she was sure they were gone she picked up the note and pocketed it. It really wasn't much but maybe it could get her a taxi ride some of the way. She couldn't believe how low she'd sunk…

The streets were still busy with cars. Now she turned her attention to waving down a taxi.

It was easier than she thought, a red cab pulled up beside her, and she didn't even have to hitch her skirt up. She got into the cab and said, "Crystal Shrubs Avn, Gold Brook please." The driver regarded her critically, lighting her with self-consciousness, but he set off down the street anyway. They made no conversation. She just looked out the window, watching the people.

She hoped that her measly P$100 would get her that far and she watched the meter with unease. They'd barely got down the street when her budget ran out. She decided that when she got to Crystal Shrubs she'd jump out of the car and run for it. It was the only thing she could think of. After all she used to be a member of Team Rocket, these sort of things came naturally for her…

They drove for what felt like hours. It appeared that she'd been going in the wrong direction altogether. The driver had driven in the direction opposite to the one that she'd been going in and then out of the city altogether and into the suburban areas. The scenery shift was noticeable. Where there had been tall skyscrapers and grey slate sidewalks there were now houses and green lawns and trees.

Jessie watched with longing. She would love to live in her own house. It didn't matter where. She'd practically been imprisoned for the last five years and to have her own place would be the ultimate symbol of her new freedom. Jessie decided that that was her goal for the year.

Just as she had noticed the city become the suburbs she now noticed the middle class homes become upper-class. The houses became considerably larger as did their gardens and the extravagance of their architecture. Jessie stared open mouthed at the huge arched gates of one mansion that looked as if it had been built from the clouds downward it was so large. And there were so many lights. Clearly the rich loved to illuminate all of their possessions. Almost everything was spotlit, so much so that the stars above were dimmed by their splendor.

Eventually the cab eased into a street that ended in a cul de sac. The sign read "Crystal Shrubs Avenue" in fancy gold script. Jessie's stomach clenched in excitement and in anxiety. It was now that she'd have to jump out of the cab and make a break for it. The driver turned back in his seat.

"Where did you say you wanted to be dropped?" He asked.

Jessie took a steadying breath internally before yanking the door open, tossing the P$100 at him and shouting, "Here!" She spilled out of the cab, dragging her bag along with her. The driver yelled and tried to open his own door to jump after her but found it to be locked. He fumbled, swearing.

She looked around wildly trying to plan her escape route. The street was lined with houses on each side of the road and a thick hedge grew just in front of the houses like a wall separating them from the sidewalks. The house nearest to Jessie had a huge iron fence running its perimeter. She bolted.

"Hey!" He barked as she began to run away. "Stop!"

But she'd already scarpered into the trimmed hedges along the road. She scrambled wildly through the shrub, getting horribly nicked and scratched, before she made contact with a hard something. It was the iron fence. She pressed against it as hard as possible, as if she was trying to compress herself, knowing that she had nowhere to run. She could hear the taxi driver swearing and shouting. She listened in terror, holding onto her body that was shivering out of control. Her senses were going crazy. Her blood was pounding in her ears. She couldn't see much what with the darkness and the density of the hedge all around her but then something white and blinding seared her eyes.

The taxi driver had a torch. She saw the beam of light searching through the bushes.

What was worse was that the driver himself began to tread through the hedge searching. He came closer.

She pulled her body tighter, trying her best to take up the least amount of space possible. She held her breath until her lungs threatened to explode as the torch light wandered dangerously past her feet.

"Where are you?" She could hear him muttering furiously. "Come out! I won't turn you in if you just pay me my money!"

He stopped in front of her. She held as still as possible. Slowly he turned his head from side to side, the torch light following his gaze, she noted how his nose twitched as if he was trying to sniff her out. Someone in one of the houses slammed a door and the driver jumped. Jessie let out a small gasp of shock.

The driver's head snapped toward the sound. "I know you're here!" He shouted. He moved away from her and continued to search. She let herself breathe.

After a few horror-filled minutes the taxi driver switched off his torch and got into his car and she heard the engine growl into life.

He drove away.

She wanted to get up and move but she had a feeling that the driver was still waiting. He'd driven away as a ruse but was probably just waiting on the corner of the street for her to come out. Then he'd run her down and maybe call the police.

She decided that it was safer to wait it out.

She didn't own a watch so she had no idea of how much time was passing or even what time it was currently. She could only count the seconds in her head. When she got into numbers so high that she lost count she decided it might be safe to venture out again.

Her hands were shaking and her stomach was clenched again with reluctance but she forced herself to crawl slowly out of the hedge. She was scratched and pulled back by the branches and leaves of the hedge as she had been when she had first hurtled in. She peered cautiously up and down the road. No one. Still cautious she moved, hunchbacked, down the pavement, dangling her bag just above the ground so it didn't drag or make a noise.

She noted the house number of the first gate she passed: 16. Before progressing she looked back down the road. Nothing. Nobody. The next house was number 14 so she knew she was going the wrong way. She turned around slowly, watching. Still no one.

In fact there were no cars in the road at all nor any people strangely. She ran as quietly as possible and as quickly as she could with her back bent down back up the avenue. Every time she heard a noise, maybe the hoot of a noctowl or the bark of a growlithe she thought it was the driver and jumped an inch out of her skin. It wasn't luckily.

The house numbers flashed by and when she looked up she saw number 22. She was searching for 21. That meant that the house she was looking for was across the street! She was so close! After everything she'd gone through to get here! Just a street width away from a goal!

She took in a deep breath, adjusted her bag, glanced carefully down the street one last time. Still no one. She decided that the taxi driver must have left. She straightened up. Straightened her clothes and started to cross the street. The house she was looking for was the one in the middle of the cul de sac. It was certainly the largest house of them all. The grandest.

It was a triple story affair, coloured a pale creamy tan, and about as fancy as anything Jessie had ever seen. The huge gates looked like they were made from gold and they guarded a huge garden with the house in the very centre. There was a long drive way, typically lined with trees, which led all the way up to the house whereupon it ended as a circle that had a running fountain in the middle of it. The entrance took the form of set of wooden double doors that could be accessed by a short flight of stone steps. Everything was doused in a soft light. All in all it was rather exorbitant.

Are the gates really made of gold, she wondered. Then she realized. The gates! How was she going to get in!

The hottest rap sensation B-rock looked reluctantly up from the book he was reading and said to his ex-security guard, "James, I think there's someone at the gate. Can you have someone get that?"

The ex-security guard, James, looked up from his own reading, a police file on Vermillion City prostitutes, and said while hitting his forehead with his palm as if he'd forgotten something, "Damn, I forgot to tell you. All the staff, except for Rosette, are on leave for the League Season. They all went home yesterday. I'll have to go and see who it is for myself."

"Really? I'm sure I saw Alfred at the gates this morning when I came back from the store." B-rock replied lazily his primary focus was back on his book and he didn't look up this time.

"Hm. I'll go check anyway." James murmured thoughtfully and tried to get up from his seat. He was hindered some by the huge white cat pokemon sprawled across his lap. Said cat snarled when James tried to nudge him off his lap.

"Hey what's the big deal?" The Persian yawned, stretching his long slender limbs and climbing off his cushion, James. "I was having myself a good nap!"

It was quite unusual for a pokemon, any pokemon, to be capable of human speech including psychic pokemon, who could lift fridges with their minds, but couldn't actually speak; they communicated through telepathy. Most pokemon could only say the syllables of their names but here was a Persian speaking fluent English. Not only that but he spoke too much.

"You can go back to sleep only this time you won't have me to lie on, thank goodness." James said to the pokemon, who stuck out his tongue in reply and then proceeded to fall back asleep on the couch, his head rolling and his paw dangling to the floor.

James rolled his eyes. "You'd be sleeping in the yard if your claws weren't so sharp."

The cat, without opening his eyes, said, "And don't you forget it…"

James left the room smirking. He made his way across the landing and down the grand staircase. B-rock's house was a sprawling mansion with a huge entrance hall that had a grand stair case and massive double doors. The floors were marble. It was extravagant but James had to admit the guy really knew how to live in style.

Since the security room was on the other side of the house James decided it would be quicker to see who was at the gate by physically going outside instead of just looking on the monitor. He left through the huge double doors and descended yet another flight of stone steps into the garden. The drive way was lined with trees and at the very end of it were the gold painted front gates.

James was alarmed to see Alfred, the gate guard who had apparently not taken leave, dragging someone out of the grounds. He hurried over to see what was going on. The 'intruder' was struggling against Alfred's tight grip. The flailing figure screamed fiercely and demanded to be let go. James was even more alarmed to hear it was a woman.

"Let me go! Please! I just want to meet the guy who lives here! Please!" She cried, struggling.

"So why didn't you come in through the gates instead of over them?" Alfred retorted, trying his best to hold onto her. She was a little bit like a wild cat, stringy but tough.

Alfred noticed James coming nearer and a look of visible relief came over his face.

"Sir!" He cried, panting at the effort of keeping the girl from bolting. "I found this girl on the premises I think she's some B-rock stalker. Stop struggling! I swear I'll call the police on ya!" The last part was obviously directed at the girl who glared at him and didn't abate her struggling. He shoved her. Hard. She choked out a cry.

James held out a hand in sympathy. "Alfred please-"

"Should I throw her out, sir?" Alfred asked.

James stared at the wild girl, ignoring Alfred. She looked oddly familiar. Very familiar. She reminded him of someone. That red hair. Such a distinctive colour…

"Jessie…" He whispered. But it really couldn't be her. His Jessie might not even be alive…he hadn't seen her in six years. He hadn't spoken to her…not since that terrible day…

James frowned, pushing his current thoughts to the back of his mind, they were distracting and painful, he needed to focus on the situation at hand. "What were you doing on our premises?" He asked the girl, who stopped struggling briefly to look at him. At that moment, that pivotal moment when their eyes met he could've sworn his heart had stopped. Her eyes were blue. Jessie's blue. He was sure of it.

James blinked. It wasn't her. It wasn't. But then…

"I'm here to see a man named James!" She yelled desperately. That hair, those eyes, she was here to see a man named James. Could it really be? And then he saw.

"Jessie?" James asked, slowly, carefully, as if her name was a cold body of water and he was testing the water by dipping in an experimental toe.

The girl stared back at him, recognition dawning in her expression. "James?" She whispered, tears rolling down her face.

James, when reflecting on the moment that followed, never remembered exactly what happened next. He remembered shoving Alfred to the side, so hard that the man fell on the ground, he remembered taking Jessie in his arms and holding her, while she cried. But everything else he forgot. It was only about half an hour later when he was drinking a strong double espresso that things became clear again.

The coffee was too hot, it singed his tongue, but he was too numb to notice. His eyes were fixed on the woman sitting opposite him. He disregarded her appearance, one of a dirty ragged clothed woman, and looked only at her eyes. So blue.

A clock ticked in the background.

His thoughts were of a dusky evening sky, such a moody shade of blue, but so beautiful. So delicate and mystical.

His brow creased. "Did he hurt you? Was he too rough?" He asked her, referring to Alfred's treatment of her a half hour earlier. "I'll having him fired, if you want. How dare he!" He angrily gulped a mouthful of steaming coffee and then realized how hot it was he had to spit it out again. Jessie let out a breath of a laugh.

"Don't fire him. It's fine." She said,

"I can't believe it's you James. I…" She closed her eyes and tears began to fall down her cheeks. "I can't believe it."

He went around the table to her and hugged her again. Surprised actually because the two of them had barely ever hugged in such an intimate way when they were still Team Rocketers back in the old days. In the old days Jessie was a sturdy girl.

But when he hugged her now he felt how skinny she was and how bony her body had become.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, lessening the strength of his hug because he was afraid he'd break her. She felt very fragile. Like a small little child.

She clung to him tighter. "Don't. I'm okay."

"No you're not." He pulled out of the hug and looked at her again, this time at all of her. He noticed now her condition, how terrible her clothes were, how dirty she was, how thin.

"Are you hungry?" He asked her, getting up to go and prepare food. She shook her head even as she felt the ripple of hunger run through her stomach. She needed to talk to him first.

"James, I need to tell you what happened. I need to talk to you." She said, grabbing hold of one of his hands and gazing at him.

James opened his mouth to reply when he heard B-rock calling from the lounge. "Hey James who was at the gate?"

"Hey Brock, come down here! And Persian!" James yelled back.

Jessie raised her eyebrows. "Brock? As in Brock Slate? The twerp's friend…? Persian?"

James smirked. It was like nostalgia. Jessie calling Brock 'the twerp's friend' made him realize how much he'd forgotten. "The twerps" were Team Rocket's old nickname for Ash Ketchum's little gang. He didn't even see Brock like that anymore. The twerps…

"What're you laughing at?" Jessie asked him curiously.

"I'm just remembering when we were still Team Rocket chasing after Ash-I mean the twerp's- Pikachu. I missed it." He replied.

"Me too. Sometimes it seems like it was more fun than actual crime." Said Jessie.

"That's a good way to put it. I don't think we ever got away with anything."

Jessie smiled. "We were always…"

"Blasting off again." They said together. James chuckled.

"Ah the good old days…"

There were voices coming down the passage outside the kitchen. Jessie readied herself. She was curious to see how Brock looked these days. She wondered if he had changed as much as she had. Then he came into the room and she had to raise her eyebrows.

He'd gotten taller and his clothes were different. He was wearing a get-up Jessie could only describe as gangster, no not gangster, 'gangsta.' He was wearing bling, gold and flashing under the light. It disturbed her in a way. People can change so much and so fast. It made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her. What James saw. She didn't want to look at his face for fear that she would see to much difference in it for her to handle but she did.

At first she was shy. Slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. They were still Brock's eyes. The eyes she knew from when they were all still teenagers.

"You're still the same!" She murmured and James lifted an eyebrow, being the only one who heard her.

He was the same. His face had aged a little, he looked like an adult now instead of a teen but his features were still kind and…Brock-like.

"Hey- so who was at the…woah!" Brock stopped dead in the doorway. Behind him Persian yowled as he'd just walked into Brock's legs.

"Move it will yas?" Persian snarled.

"Jessie?" Brock asked incredulously.

"The name's Persian. PERSIAN. You insane, Brocko?" said the cat poking his head in the doorway besides Brock's legs. He paused, noticing Jessie sitting at the table. Their eyes met. A clash of amber and blue. It was as if electricity crackled through the room.

"Holy-!" Persian swore harshly, gaping at Jessie who gaped back.

"Meowth, Meowth is that you? You-you evolved?" She was speechless. Her memory recalled a knee high Meowth that walked on two legs, clumsy and slick at the same time. Now he was a Persian, elegant, slick all round and all youthful clumsiness gone. He walked like a hunter now, on all fours.

Persian just gaped dumbly.

Brock smiled apologetically. "Don't mind him he's usually this brain dead." And used his foot to slide Persian out of the room. This earned him a swipe from the cat's deadly claws.

"Watch it Brocko, you're getting too cocky for my liking…" He snarled and padded over to Jessie who fell onto the floor and threw her arms around his neck.

"I missed you so much, Meowth! I missed you so much…" She started to cry again. "You don't even know how much I wanted to see you guys again. Even you twerp." She said to Brock, but she was smiling when she said it albeit weakly.

James folded his arms, he turned his face looking away as tears leaked from his own eyes.

Even Persian was crying. "Why are you making me cry, Jessie?" He sniffed.

"Why are you making _me_ cry, Meow-Persian?" She replied, hugging him tighter so that his eyes bulged a little.

"Erm, air! Jessie I need air!" He meowed and she let him go, lips pursed apologetically.

"You look amazing! Like a real pokemon!"

Persian scowled. "So what was I before? A pokedoll?"

"Don't tease him Jessie he's very sensitive." Brock smirked. "Aren't you, little Persian-wersian?"

"Yeah, he didn't mature at all when he evolved." James added, smirking also. Jessie was slightly in awe of how much more confidant James seemed, he seemed to have, just like Meowth, evolved. He had a quiet kind of strength to him, endearing, Jessie thought, and yet with that confidence came a kind of sadness.

He moved slower than she remembered, without the lightness of a child, without the careless happiness he used to have. He was more controlled. She smiled sadly.

James and Brock noticed this. The latter immediately felt that indescribable gut feeling that meant he needed to leave the room. He wondered if it maybe wasn't the best time to be hanging around. They probably wanted to be alone. This was a reunion he wasn't invited to…He had started to inch out of the room but James shook his head. "Please. Stay." He mouthed. Obviously the man needed some support. Brock patted him on the back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He was feeling kind of uncomfortable.

Then Jessie began to tell her story, of how she'd escaped, and how she found him and he felt even worse.

* * *

"She's different."

"She's changed."

"Her clothes are dirty."

"Her hair's short."

"She's too skinny."

"She looks so sad."

"She's poor."

"She's been abused."

"I can't stand it."

"I won't tolerate it."

"We have to do something."

"What can we possibly do?"

"Let her stay with us."

"Are you crazy? A female? Living with us?"

"Are you serious? It's Jessie, she's not a…"

"…"

"Okay, fine, she's a female, but she needs my help, our help, she's got nowhere to go. She has no money, or family to stay with. What is she supposed to do? Have you seen how thin she is? She hasn't eaten in weeks, months. I've seen beggars look better than she does. Can't we just let her stay with us for a year or two until she gets back on her feet? She needs us…please, Brock…"

The two men stood on Brock's enormous half-circle balcony that looked out over the whole estate. Brock leaned against the creamy marble railing, his hand tracing the ornate carvings of its surface as he thought about their predicament.

James stood a short ways away, staring over Brock's head at the velvet night sky, awash with diamond stars. His hair flickered in the breeze but he barely noticed how cold it was. He only wanted to help Jessie. He could only think of how bony her ribs were. Of how she held onto him so tightly it seemed she was afraid she would disappear if she let go. He thought of memory and the past and how Team Rocket had broken the girl he had once thought of as the central pillar to his world. How it had crumbled after she was gone. Everything in pieces and scattered across the earth . Slowly he had managed to rebuild himself and his world, but had she? He chuckled mirthlessly. It was ironic. Now, he would have to put _her_ back together.

But to do that he needed to convince Brock, who for some reason, was wary of women. Or at the very least living with a woman. At the back of James' mind he felt a prickle of curiosity that he quickly suppressed. Brock's shadowed past could wait, Jessie's uncertain future needed his attention more. He cast around for an argument in her favour but Persian got there first.

The ghostly cat appeared from nowhere, suddenly slinking along the balcony towards Brock. Oh look the cavalry's arrived, James found himself thinking inexplicably. Brock caught sight of Persian in his peripherals and visibly winced. The cat grinned.

"Hey Brocky-boy, how's the discussion goin'? Is Jessie getting the guest room with that nice view of the swimmin' pool or what?" He asked.

Brock's eyebrows were knotted. "Not exactly. I'm still not sure I want a woman in the house with us."

"Oh come on you didn't moind last night." Persian replied. He winked at James who bit his lip to hold back a grin. They had him there.

Brock flushed. "That's different. She didn't move in with us. She wasn't sharing our bathrooms…"

"But she was sharing your bed…" James muttered but Brock didn't hear him.

"…or eating our cereal…or hogging the television…insisting we do things her way…controlling our bedtimes…" He went on in that fashion while James and Persian exchanged glances. Eventually Persian clogged Brock's verbal diarrhea.

"Brock, stop, please. This is torture." He held up a paw to further illustrate his meaning. "Let her stay for a week, we'll figure somethin' out 'til then. You'd be doin' us a favwour. I neva knew _the_ Brock to be so cold hearted…"

James had been thinking the same thing and was glad that Persian mentioned it. He stared at Brock, awaiting his response, while Brock looked strained and a little sad. Was there…? James wondered but pushed it out of his mind, he saw Persian's shining cat eyes watched through the dim light.

The minutes stretched by until finally Brock sighed. "Okay."

James whooped, jumping on the spot, and pulled his friend into a hug. Persian meowed loudly and sprang onto Brock's back, wrapping his huge paws around Brock's shoulders.

James pulled away, smiling. "Thank you."

* * *

Yes, I know you enjoyed that chapter! You must've! It had potential Rocketshippy action, and Meowth is a Persian! And...Brock is a rapper? Yup, it gets even better, we haven't even gotten to Ash, Misty and Pikachu yet! Please review! I really would like to know what people think of my writing style in this fic, and of my characters, because although I don't own them I feel like I've changed them alot...

Tell me what you think! :D


	3. Act I: Part Two

**Updated a/n: **So I changed this chapter, I really hope everyone prefers this version, because I do. And if you liked the old scenes don't worry most will be included later on. Please enjoy!

**Tragic Kingdom: Act I**

**Chapter Two**

_"And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro' nature, molding men."_

Brock was hunched over a luke-warm cup of coffee looking like he hadn't slept the whole night, which James mused, he probably hadn't. The other man was shirtless, wearing only old cargo pants and his shaggy bed hair. If he didn't know better James would've thought Brock had a hangover, but when it came to Brock it was more likely to be a woman. Smirking, he sat down opposite the ruffled man at the kitchen table.

"Morning Jimmy-boy," Persian growled from his own seat at the table. The huge housecat had a piece of toast hooked on one of his talons and would take a bite every once in a while, as if he were dangling a rattata by his claws and not a piece of bread. Each time his eyes would sparkle evilly.

"Morning Persian." James smiled, reaching for a croissant. Their kitchen table was crowded full of breakfast, towering arrangements of toast, muffins, scones and croissants, platters of eggs, sausages and bacon, sun-dried tomatoes, bowls of fresh fruit, fruit in juice, fruit juice and lying somewhat forgotten to the side a choice of cereal. "I wonder what I'll have today." James muttered.

Rosette, their maid (who was actually a Gardevoir), bustled in the kitchen around them. She was preparing James' morning coffee, a habit so ingrained neither she nor James had to request it. Brock and James, since hiring her, had never had to bother about tedious things like what to have for breakfast or if the fridge was becoming too empty.

Brock groaned, pitifully and without lifting his head attempted to blindly grab a muffin from their stack. He knocked over a good few things before Rosette handed him the lemon and poppy seed pastry.

James and Persian exchanged smirks.

"I suppose last night went well." James commented, still smirking. Rosette appeared at his side, coffee in hand. "Thank you, Rosette. It looks delicious as always." James paused in the buttering of his croissant, looking thoughtful. "Oh, and would you mind taking some up to the second spare bedroom with breakfast?"

The Gardevoir nodded graciously and went to put a breakfast tray together. Brock raised his head wearily. "Would I look like this if it hadn't?" Promptly he slumped back down. Persian rolled his eyes.

"I'm surprised ol' Jessie isn't up yet." Persian muttered. "I remember she was always an early riser."

"She's been like this for the last two days. She's probably exhausted from her ordeal." James said simply, and looked out the huge kitchen windows at the estate. Unlike the manicured front garden, and elegant driveway the back yard was a huge landscaped art piece, with gaudy statues and hedge sculptures of Pokemon, scattered ad random. In the centre was a sparkling blue swimming pool, and a shaded deck for having tea.

"I can't help but wonder what happened to her. She's still not talking about it." Persian continued, ignoring James' subtle attempt to end the conversation.

"Having met you, I'm sure she's thinking the same thing, Persian." Brock mumbled. James snorted.

"What was that, Brocko?" Persian snarled.

Rosette glided past with the breakfast tray in hand, it was a mini version of the kitchen table, a little bit of everything, elegantly arranged. James was momentarily distracted, "Wait, Rosette."

He plucked a rose from the arrangement on the table and placed it on the tray. "Now it's perfect."

Persian smirked. "You're a real Valentino, eh, Jimmy? Someone's got the hots for ol' Jessie!"

James waved Persian off with a gesture.

"He's been taking notes." Brock quipped. "From the master."

"That couldn't possibly be you, could it?" Persian retorted sarcastically. It became a small scuffle, with Brock, who seemed to have awoken lunging at Persian to give him a Pewter style noogie. Between a yowling wild cat and the hulk of man-meat that was Brock, James felt obligated to change the topic.

"Speaking of which, Brock, who was that girl last night?" James interrupted their playing as he remembered the leggy beauty Brock had brought home. Brock managed to flash James a pervy grin from in between Persian's jaws.

James smiled, sipping at his coffee. "So who was she? I've never seen her before."

Persian laughed, though it sounded like he was trying to throw up Brock's head. "I ain't never seen a kitty with paws like that."

"You won't believe it but she was an acolyte from Erika's gym."

"No way! That minx?"

Brock nodded.

"Maybe you are the master, Brock. Erika's gym? Wow." Persian whistled, now disentangled from his prey. He grinned evilly at Brock. "You little devil, you. Polluting the innocents."

"Not so innocent apparently." James smirked. "If Brock's current condition is anything to go by…"

"Ew." Said Persian.

Brock frowned at him.

* * *

Upstairs in the second spare bedroom, the one that overlooked the pool, Jessie sat up nervously. She'd heard a knock on the door, the sound had woke her, and being illusioned by sleep she was under the impression she was still in the wooden shack at Mortaguy's. But a quick glance at the rich flaaffy wool sheets, and the grand window streaming in morning sun told her otherwise. She was at Brock's. And downstairs were James and Persian. She hadn't been at Mortaguy's for a few days now. Something akin to pure relief flooded her body, she had to take a few minutes to get over it. The knocking came at the door again. Jessie looked up cautiously. Although it was likely to be James with breakfast, or Persian with some light hearted chatter, she was nervous. What if it was Mortaguy, what if he had tracked her down?

She slid out of bed, regretting her choice of sleepwear. She was clad in a short silk nightie that Brock had dug up somewhere. As cute as it was it was wholly inappropriate for battle however. With one trembling hand she tugged the dress as if hoping it might cover her exposed legs, and with the other she grabbed at one of the beautifully carved Sudowoodo statue that had been proudly displayed in the her room. She waited, walking slowly towards the door. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her whole body trembling like a leaf. But she steeled herself. Her free hand reached for the door knob just as the knocker knocked again.

Jessie exhaled with purpose, grabbed the door knob and yanked the door open. She jumped back quickly, with the sudowoodo raised above her head, ready to crash into the skull of her attacker. She shrieked as she took in the tall pokemon in the doorway. It was probably here to kidnap her. She threw all her muscle into bringing the statue down on the pokemon's head. They would not take her again! They would not take her away from James!

It seemed to take forever for the blow to fall. She could've counted to one hundred in her head. She'd heard of slow motion but this was getting a little ridiculous. Were precipital moments really supposed to take this long? She tried to move her arm, experimentally, and found it was frozen. Oh crap. She'd forgotten.

"Gardevooooir!" The enraged Rosette admonished her. The pokemon swept past her frozen body and placed the breakfast tray on her bed, not once unfreezing her. Jessie realised, as she saw the breakfast tray, that this must be one of Brock's servant pokemon. In fact it was likely to be the legendary Rosette, who'd taken a short holiday, but was due, according to Persian, to start work again on…Monday. Today.

She tried to apologise for the misunderstanding but her mouth was also disabled like the rest of her body. She could only make muffled grunts. Rosette came up to her, grinning. "Gar?"

Jessie grunted.

Rosette released her from the disable attack. "Gardevooir!" The feeling was like how a cup might feel if it had been poured empty of its contents. Jessie found she could move again. She turned to Rosette, bowing apologetically.

"I'm so sorry, Rosette. I don't know what I was thinking." She felt terrible. What would have happened to her if she'd attacked one of Brock's pokemon? Would they have thrown her out?

"Gardevoir." The pokemon replied waving it off with a warm wagging of a finger. Rosette pointed to the breakfast tray. "Gar…"

"Thank you." Jessie bowed again. "Again, I apologize, Rosette."

The pokemon smiled, and left, shutting the door on her way out. Jessie stood where she was, feeling very stupid. But even so, she still went to shut the bathroom door because for some reason open doors where people could get in made her nervous. She turned to the breakfast tray, taking in the smells of the delicious foods and the coffee. Her stomach grumbled.

With no reason why she shouldn't she sat down to eat the food. Unused to all the grandeur she unpacked all the different food stuff s onto her bed, marvelling at the soft, sweet smelling muffins and the perfectly crisped bacon. Someone had even put a pink rose on the tray. It was strange for her to have such easy access to food, and delicious food such as the ones she had on her tray had become somewhat mythical to her over the years. She almost felt like she didn't deserve to eat it.

She plucked a strawberry from the platter, staring at it in wonder before she bit into it. It was sweet, and with a sudden shock she remembered how much she had liked strawberries before Mortaguy. She had actually forgotten. It had just been so long ago. She put the half-eaten strawberry back amongst its fellows, feeling ill. Memories of Mortaguy and Dolly had come back unbidden. Memories where she had stayed up long after they had gone to bed to steal leftovers from the kitchen. It was never food she had cooked, even though she had been their slave for years, she suspected that Mortaguy had never trusted her perhaps scared that she would poison them, though he often left Dolly in her care. Sometimes there were no leftovers, and she would go to bed tired and hungry.

Sometimes she had dreamed of poisoning them, she would imagine Arbok rescuing her, and together they would murder Mortaguy. Sometimes it was the only way she would get to sleep, imagining he was dead and she was safe. She shivered pushing the food away. Her appetite gone.

She got up, deciding she would take a shower. She had been wearing old clothes of Brock's and James' for the past few days. The old blue dress she had been wearing when she'd run away was hung up in her closet. She'd noticed James hadn't recognized it when she'd arrived even though it had been the symbol of him, of her freedom. When she moved to take an old pair of James' jeans and an old shirt of Brock's out of the closet she had brushed against it. It looked decidedly better now that it had been washed, as it had faded somewhat over the years, but she couldn't help but imagine it staring forlornly at her. James hadn't even recognized it.

She took the fresh clothes with her into the bathroom, surrounded by cool white tiles she suddenly felt calmer. She set the shower running as she brushed her teeth with an airplane toothbrush (the best James could do on short notice short of offering her is own, she had denied), and when there were clouds of steam rolling out between the glass doors she hurriedly undressed and went in. It was in every luxury that she had formerly taken for granted that she realized just how badly she had lived for the past five years. In every hot drop of water she remembered the cold bucket where she bathed every morning, behind the shed that was her home. She remembered the chilly mornings where dawn was still cold and rose pink, turning her own body mottled and cold. The garden always smelt sweet at that isolated time, and the air was sharp with the sound of her splashing but she was always as quiet as she could be, and invisible. She couldn't believe now, under the warm shower, that it had all happened, just a few days ago. She just couldn't believe it.

She scrubbed herself until her skin was red, and then a little more just for luck. Her head prickled as she rinsed and repeated, determined to erase every piece of dirt, and every molecule that even mildly resembled the graying, mustached demon that was Mortaguy. She washed away the black suits, and the whiskeys, the dull grey eyes, and the shaking, burning hand that had slapped her more than she cared to admit. When she was crying, when she had sunk to the shower floor, she finally stopped, knowing that she had to stop or else she would never ever live again. She put the empty bottle of shampoo down, sniffing. The water was tepid now. She supposed she'd used up most of the hot water.

She got out of the shower, dried herself with one fluffy champagne towel, then dressed in the men's clothes, baggy and tent-like as they hung off her tiny body. She set about brushing her hair with the silver brush set Brock had given her. She didn't know where he had gotten such a beautiful brush set, only that it suited a girl much more feminine and precious than she, she wondered whose it had been originally as Brock probably would have no use for it. It didn't take long for her to put the brush down, her hair was hardly the length it used to be, and it brushed out much faster.

She tried to smile at herself in the mirror, when she failed to even quirk the corner of her lips she gave up and decided to go downstairs.

She had hardly left the bathroom when she shrieked, jumping back with her arms raised defensively. James had been sitting on her bed, staring at the door with a kind of hesitant expression, but now his face showed bewilderment and she had seen him jump as she had.

"Are you alright?" He asked in concern.

"Yes," She said, feeling stupid. "I just got a fright."

He laughed softly. "Jessie got a fright, I didn't think it was possible."

She laughed nervously. "James frightened me. I didn't think it was possible either."

"Hey, I can be scary." He said smiling.

"I know," she replied. "You just showed me."

He motioned for her to sit beside him on the bed, she did hesitantly. Her initial adrenaline at having found him again had worn off and she had become cautious. It didn't matter that it had only been Mortaguy that had ever hurt her, her body remembered and she was scared.

"You didn't eat your breakfast." He noted, frowning at the half-eaten strawberry amongst the whole ones. "Didn't you like it? I can ask Rosette to make you anything you want."

"No, I did like it. I just- I wasn't-I'm not hungry." She said.

"But you look like you haven't eaten anything in a year. You need to eat." He plucked a lemon and poppyseed muffin like the one Brock had had, and offered it to her. "This is Rosette's finest, just eat one at least."

She took the muffin reluctantly. James watched her expectantly and she forced herself to take a bite. It tasted so good. It tasted like years and years of Muffin famine, where all she had ever thought about was chocolate, blueberry, bran and strawberry muffins. It tasted like the sweetest, softest, moistest muffin in the whole world. James smiled, perhaps her rapture had registered on her face.

But almost immediately after the first bite her stomach clenched, and she knew she couldn't have another bite. It was just too much, just too many memories. She put the muffin down, and moved it just slightly away from her.

She looked back at James to see him staring at her hand. He had a very serious expression on his face, and she was a little frightened by it.

"Jessie." He said softly. "You still haven't told me what happened to you these past few years."

"It's not important, James." She muttered, pulling her hands into her lap. Her frailty was glaring, through the layers of oversized clothes, and the slightly damp, limp hair. Her eyes had gone blank, she had vanished again.

"I think it is. I couldn't stand it. Being away from you. I'm still going mad not knowing what happened to you. You have to tell me." He said, reaching out to her with a hand without thinking. She stared at him and he was shocked when she flinched and pulled away at his touch.

"I can't, James, please don't make me." She said, not moving away, but not coming closer either. She seemed to be holding herself together, restraining every action. He could sense she was tense, ready to flee almost. Her eyes were very wide as she stared at the bedspread, her dark lashes spiked against her cheek. Her pale, pale cheek.

There was silence now in the room, white light landing grey on the carpet, curtains still, as one tried to speak and the other wouldn't. James swallowed hard and put his outstretched hand back on his knee. He was unsure of what to do.

"I'm sorry." She said eventually, so softly, he nearly didn't hear it.

"Please don't apologise." James looked around, seeking some kind of rescue. He grabbed the untouched tea Rosette had left, sipping it even though it was cool. There were strawberries, he nibbled one nervously. She wasn't even looking at him.

"Just know, James, I'm glad I found you. I probably would've died if I hadn't." She said, her hands trembling. All he wanted to do was to touch her, to reassure her, but he could tell she wouldn't let him near her. Not yet. He fought with himself for awhile, there were so many things he wanted to say already, but he knew she needed time most of all. Reassurance. Safety. He found he was also trembling, more out of anger. All he wanted now was to find out who had done this to her, and then find out the best way to make them suffer.

James was clearing the full breakfast plates, out of a strange compulsion to do something, something that was useful, the diversion was restorative, and he felt some kind of calm returning to him, and to his now still hands. It did not last long. A loud shriek broke through the house. James dropped the plates, and food scattered across the room. He swore softly as he trod a muffin into the carpet.

Jessie had leapt from the bed.

"What was that?" She asked, hand to her chest. She moved to grab the Sudowoodo from its perch.

"It sounded like Persian…" James said, tugging at his shirt collar and eying her nervously with the Sudowoodo in her hand. "Are you going to attack someone with that?" He asked, moving towards the door.

"If I have to." She replied, following after him. She noted he had his hand on a pokeball at his belt, he was of course Brock's ex-live in security guard, as she had found out. It was obvious in the way he moved, glancing behind every wall as they made their way through the house.

"Just stay close to me." He told her, as they moved into the corridor. "We've had crazy fans break in before. They'll go mad if they see you."

"Me?"

"You're a woman. They'll think you're B-Rock's girlfriend."

"But I'm not. James," Jessie said nervously, moving closer to him as they heard another yowl. He increased his pace, keeping Jessie near.

"Persian? Brock? Where are you?" He called, as they peered around the double doorframe into Brock's huge master bedroom.

"In here!" Brock called back.

James nodded into the room. "They're in the bathroom."

Jessie nodded silently, somewhat bewildered, as she followed him in.

Brock's room encompassed a large area, almost a quarter she imagined of the giant house itself, it had a huge king size bed, a balcony half as big as the room that overlooked the back garden, and what appeared to be a full set of surround sound speakers. Jessie and James walked past Brock's geodude, that was reclining on the black leather couch. It nodded at them as they passed. James grinned at it.

"What the problem is?" James sighed as they walked into the bathroom. He would not usually have sighed, especially if there was a crazy fan in the house, but the sight that greeted him and Jessie was nothing short of ridiculous. Persian was wrapped in one of the fluffy towels, looking positively disheveled, he was yowling loudly at Brock and stopped when he saw James, frowning.

"Someone used up all the hot water!" Persian roared, sounding more like an angry Rhydon than a mere Persian.

Brock was laughing, hand against the bathroom counter as he tried to keep himself from falling over and rolling on the floor.

"I just can't do it! I just can't handle it anymore! I am at my wits end living with you people! All I ask for is for hot water everyday! All I ask!"

"…and homemade catfood, your own hunting ground, your pillows to be fluffed, your claws to be sharpened…" Brock wheezed between laughter.

James smirked and Jessie frowned. She felt bad immediately.

"I'm sorry Persian it was me." She admitted quietly. "I used up the hot water."

Brock fell into peals of laughter once more. She stared at him.

"Why is he laughing?" She asked James.

"Because you admitted to using up the hotwater before you asked why the cat was using the shower. It really is unusual." James chuckled.

She laughed nervously. "It is, I just thought…"

"Well, Jessie if it was you it's alright, I don't mind neglecting my hygiene for you." Persian interrupted, as he tried to dry himself. "But to atone for your sins would ya mind giving me a hand?"

She nodded, moving to help him dry himself but James stopped her. "He can dry himself, I was hoping you and I could go shopping. You need clothes."

"I need clothes! Look at me I'm naked!" Persian yowled.

"You're always naked!" Brock said, recovering.

"Blame Jimmy for that. He refuses to buy me clothes."

"It's because you just wouldn't look sexy in them at all. Like Jessie." Brock retorted.

Jessie blushed. Suddenly she was unsure where to look. James smiled at her. She couldn't believe she felt this self-conscious suddenly after all those years when she'd run around in nothing but a miniskirt and a belly top…

"That's discrimination!" Persian growled.

"What clothes would you wear anyway?" James asked. "You don't even stand on two legs anymore."

"I've seen what people dress their eevees in, I know what Pokemon fashion is! You people are denying me!"

"Oh my word…" Brock said, scooping the Pokemon up around his belly and dragging him out of the room. "I'll make sure he shuts up. Take Jessie to the shops while I'm gone."

"Don't let him take me! He'll murder me!" Persian shouted as they left. As soon as they thought they were out of earshot Jessie heard Persian and Brock burst into deranged laughter.

"Ha ha ha ha he's totally taking lessons from the B-rock!"

"What a Romeo! Ahahahaha…"

James sighed as if he were some long suffering martyr. Jessie couldn't help but give a small very small smile.

* * *

Brock and Persian hastily made their getaway in Brock's red vintage sports car. Although they had told James that they were going to buy pokemon clothes for Persian they definitely weren't (and never would as Persian liked being naked). It was a secret between the two of them that they would always take a few hours out of every Monday to go and perform what Brock called "his secret duties". It was a name that rung rather suspect in the ears of anyone ignorant but that was why they kept it a secret. No one knew except Persian. And it had to stay that way. It was a sunny day so they had let the top down so Persian could let his ears flap in the wind. Brock had slipped a pair of sunglasses on, and had one arm resting on the car as he drove one handed. Persian couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"So what are your plans for the night?" The pokemon eventually asked, as the car roared down the highway. Trees and cars disappeared in their wake. A sign saying Vermillion City flashed by.

"I'm probably going to spend the day at the Centre." Brock said. "Then dinner."

"Not feeling up to a drink at least?" Persian asked, regarding the occupants of the car over with a reserved boredom. It was a girl and a bulbasaur, both of whom appeared to be singing to a song on the radio.

"Nah," Brock said. "I don't think so." Persian inclined his head, as he suddenly noticed Brock's rather serious expression. The man seemed to be grappling with some kind of torturous internal conflict. Persian frowned thoughtfully. Then Brock abruptly turned off the radio which had been blearing a rather soppy romantic ballad.

"Who lets that stuff get recorded?" Brock muttered.

"Says you, Mr. Rapper. Your stuff is atrocious."

"Well, girls like it." Brock said rather flatly. Persian peered curiously at him once more, and then finally decided to say it.

"You know something Brocko?" Persian said, now inquisitively staring at Brock with narrowed feline eyes. "You act strange and anti-social around the same time every year. Did you know that?"

"Probably a co-incidence. Or maybe I get annual PMS." Brock replied, staring straight ahead. Persian noted he was now driving with two hands, both of which were noticeably clenched.

"Highly likely." Persian said, smirking. "Or maybe you have some dark and terrible secret that you've been bottling up for years, and around the same date every year you can't help but be reminded." The cat flicked his tail in amusement, sitting higher in his seat to catcall at a Glameow walking with her trainer along the road. He sat back down, smirking at Brock.

"That sounds a little farfetched don't you think?"

"Maybe, but probably not." Persian replied, now staring at Brock with interest.

"It is actually. What dark secret could I possibly have?" Brock said, reluctantly quirking his lip in amusement.

"Now that's just being facetious, you're practically dangling the secret right in front of my nose. Not cool, bro." Persian replied in mock outrage. "Tell me! You have to tell me!"

"There's no secret, Perge."

"None at all?"

"None."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

Persian sighed. "Fine…I'll have to find out for myself then."

Brock rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

The car drove smoothly off the highway, taking a left into Breaker road and into Vermillion City.

Brock and Persian received approving stares as they got out of the car. There were two girls in luminous bikinis standing on the boardwalk, Brock nodded approvingly back at them, and they giggled. Suspecting they would recognize them soon and perhaps ask for autographs, Brock and Persian hurried across the road towards the Pokemon Centre.

They didn't walk through the front doors, instead picking a path amongst the herb garden to a gate in the back. Persian snorted derisively at the yellow Keep Out sign. As Brock swung the gate open, and stepped through he was accosted by a huge Houndoom that jumped right at his face, tongue out, and eyes happy.

"Get off, Cerberus." Brock said. "Down." The dog scampered happily about his feet, knocking into Persian with a friendliness that was unusual between felines and canines.

"Urgh, why is it always the mutt that has to greet us? Where's Gladys?" Persian scowled, though he batted Cerberus playfully on the shoulder.

Cerberus barked, indicating that Gladys was in the back with the other pokemon. Brock and Persian walked past rows and rows of Pokemon, some in cages, wounded, or ill, others in large enclosures with others of their kind. It took a few minutes to walk the length of the Pokemon Centre Rescue Department, the path wound between endless pokemon enclosures, but it gave Brock the opportunity to note the new arrivals, and the progress of others. He saw the Vulpix from the previous week, the one that had injured its fire pouch in what had appeared to be a very violent battle, it was now puffing smoke steadily from its nose. It blinked in acknowledgement as he passed. Persian gave a saucy wink, that was not returned in kind.

"Keep it in your pants, Persian." Brock said.

"If you would only buy me some, Brocko." Persian replied.

They found Gladys among the Houndour puppies, which explained Cerberus' increased level of enthusiasm. His tail was near wagging its owner as he proudly introduced them to his new family. His mate, Persephone, lying amongst four suckling puppies, lifted a weary head in greeting.

"Nice job there, mate." Persian said to Cerberus.

"Hey Gladys," Brock said, touching the woman on her shoulder as she crouched, with a puppy in her arms, beside Persephone. She smiled up at Brock kindly as old women tend to do. She replaced the mewling houndour and it quickly snuggled amongst its siblings.

"Glad to see you, m'boy." She said, rising to her feet and dusting herself off. "Persephone had the pups as you can see. Meet Hercules, Achilles, Perseus, Persephone Jnr and Appoline."

"Great names." Brock said, shooting a smirk at Persian.

"Good adherence to theme." Persian agreed.

"So another weekend of hard labour, eh? You've really become the backbone of the place. I can't thank you enough, Brock, dear. The bellsprout are in need of weeding, you'll help won't you? Thanks, dear." Gladys said, flapping him in the direction of the gardens. He grinned at her, slipping gloves and an apron on, both of which had "Brock, no. 1 volunteer" written on in black permanent marker.

For as long as Persian had known, or rather been friends with, him Brock had come, without fail, to volunteer at Vermillion Centre. It was a secret habit, but a noticeably noble one. And Persian could not understand what motivated him to do it. It was true that Brock had once nursed dreams of becoming a breeder, and although he had become, rather arbitrarily, a world famous rapper, it was clear he had not lost his love for pokemon care. And yet, it was with a kind of commitment that he tended the wounded Centre pokemon, that was far beyond a casual hobby, it was redolent of obsession actually, it brought to mind images of a perpetually restless beast, and while Persian passively observed this behaviour week after week it never became any clearer to him as to _why._

He watched Brock, from under the shade of a tree, as the man tended the Bellsprout. There was sweat pouring down his shirtless body, Persian wrinkled his nose, and his eyes were clouded over, seeing a world that was completely different to the one before him.

A few hours later, Brock and Persian emerged from the Centre, the sun considerably lower in the sky. They walked, somewhat wearily on Brock's part, to the car that was still parked gleaming before the boardwalk and the ocean. Brock grimaced as he caught sight of a girl in a blue bikini examining his car, she was leaning slightly forward, her sunglasses raised above her eyes by one hand so she could see better.

"I hope she's not a fan." Brock sighed, approaching with caution.

As the car let out its customary beep to signal unlocking the girl jumped back in surprise, dropping her sunglasses. They clattered to the ground. "Oh!" She said, in annoyance, before turning to stare at Brock. "Is this your car?"

Brock prepared to reply, reaching down to pick up the sunglasses, by the time he'd gotten a good look at her face he'd dropped them again, as well as his jaw. Persian, too, was gaping.

But then again, so was the girl.

"Brock?" She stared incredulously.

* * *

**A/N: **And that concludes Chapter 2, tell me if you liked it better! I'm quite excited for the Chapter 3, it will be legendary!


	4. Act I: Part Three

**a/n: **After a long hiatus, Tragic Kingdom and I have returned. I really would love to finish this fanfic, however I do have a lot of university work. This is by no means a plea for reviews (even though it is :P) but I have always found the more feedback I get, the more inspired I am to keep writing, regardless of work load. So if you like this story please don't hesitate to let me know in any way, and I love constructive criticism even more. Thank you for enduring that, now, please enjoy the story :D

**Tragic Kingdom: Act I **

**Chapter Three: Where Ocean Waters Meet**

_"Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,_

_ In her sepulchre there by the sea—_

_ In her tomb by the sounding sea"_

Time, five year's worth, to be exact, had done curious things to Misty Waterflower. Outwardly, she was more or less the lanky red head Brock remembered. Her body was lean and toned from her daily swim. Her red hair had retained that dry, silken, flyaway quality of one who is often in salty or chlorinated water. She had acquired a few more lurid freckles across her nose, cheeks and shoulders and she was now possessed of fine laugh lines near her eyes and mouth. But Brock could see by a few subtle clues that some things had changed: there was a pale band around one of Misty's tanned fingers, that he'd spotted when he had returned her thankfully unbroken sunglasses; her hair showed signs of having recently been sheared (and by Brock's now expert eye- they had not been cut by a trained hairdresser) and, if he was not mistaken, she'd acquired no less than three piercings on each of her ears since he'd last seen her. In the few seconds it had taken him to absorb this information, Misty's surprised expression had given way to one of amusement.

"Surprised to see me, Brocko?" She said, grinning. He had just begun to nod, when she swept him up into a strong hug. He hugged her back, as five years of feelings had had no idea he'd been harbouring flooded him. He, Misty and Ash had not spoken for nearly five years. Until this moment he had not realized how much he had _missed _them. By the time Misty released him, Brock was almost giddy with excitement.

"Am I? What are you doing here?" He said, grinning.

'"To put it bluntly, I live here now," She said, blinking up at him with sky blue eyes. With one hand she casually gesticulated. "I sold my house, left the gym (again) and, oh yes, bought a cruiseship."

"Ever so casually," Brock said teasingly. "Congratulations, Mist, I can't think of anything better for you."

She smiled, but he saw that it was one of those curiously sad smiles, which were far worse than any tears.

"What happened?" He asked, grabbing her hand and staring at the empty ring finger.

Misty looked away, still smiling ruefully. "Nothing, clearly."

"I know it's been five years but you know you can always talk to me. That was one of the things I missed the most. Talking to you about everything. You always got me," Brock said, squeezing her hand.

"Brock, what happened to us? I can't understand it. After all this time we meet and so much has changed, and yet it hasn't. How did we let it get like this?" Misty folded her arms, and frowned.

"Life, Misty. I don't think we control it, it controls us. But we do have some control, we haven't lost the battle yet." Brock said.

"You're absolutely right. We can fix this. You have to come with me on my cruiseship. It's our maiden voyage in two weeks time. Bring who you want I'll organize everything," Misty said excitably.

"Two weeks? I don't know, Misty, I'll have to check my sched- of course I'll come, " Brock grinned.

Persian snorted. "This has become a twerp fest…"

"Great! This is turning into a great day!" Misty clearly hadn't heard Persian. "I've invited that moron also known as Ash Ketchum. I think my running into you here means something, Brock. You don't understand how we've missed you, Brock. I've hated myself for all the ridiculous fights, and how we just left you when you were going through such a rough time. You and her- I understand now. I really do. I left you when you most needed it. You must hate me."

"I don't, Misty. We were all too young, especially you and Ash. Our lives were just moving in completely different directions. It wasn't easy for any of us. So I could never hate you for anything that happened." Brock was surprised at his words, but he meant them. In truth he had been angry with Ash and Misty for the longest time, especially Misty, who despite her flashes of ill temper and aggression had always been someone he could trust. Below her volcanic surface, Misty's nature was a quiet pool and one he often found he could reflect on, one he could confide in with trust.

She smiled weakly at him. He sensed that no matter what he said she would still feel guilty for some time.

"How are you now?" She asked. "You've become quite famous." She smirked. "I never ever ever guessed that you would become a rapper, B-rock. And quite a good one, too."

"Neither did I. But after...I changed." He said. From his knee, Persian's ears twitched. The gold eyed feline had fixed his eyes unflickeringly on Misty, and was not abating. She finally noticed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, seeing Brock was such a big surprise, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Misty," She addressed to Persian. Perhaps she had been expecting a meow in response, or for Brock to chip in with a nickname - "Nice to meet ya, Misty. But don't you remember? We already know each otha." Persian would not indulge her either of those outcomes.

"A Persian that can talk, urgh, reminds me of-" She froze, her expression was one of mild horror. "It can't be. I refuse." She glanced incredulously at Brock, who was smirking, and then to back to Persian. "Meowth?"

"That's right..." Persian grinned, flashing his razor sharp canines.

After guffawing for a few minutes, Brock recovered to say: "It may take longer than two weeks for me to explain everything to you, Misty. These past five years could fill volumes."

"I don't doubt that," Misty said, still staring unbelievingly at Persian. "No offense, but what the hell are you doing with him?"

"Brocko and me are friends, see," Persian supplied. " Regular pals, ain't we, Brock?"

"Possibly frenemies," Brock said. Misty snorted in what might have been derision or amusement.

"Well, on that note.." She sighed, putting her head in her hands. "What has happened to our lives? Next thing you're going to tell me that you and James are dating, and Jessie is your live in house cleaner. Maybe the entirety of Team Rocket is now working as your groundstaff, pruning the hedges in your fancy mansion (or so I've heard) while Giovanni, himself, cleans your swimming pool..."

Brock and Persian exchanged a glance. "That's creepily accurate." Persian said, and the two males burst out into laughter. Misty resisted for a few seconds before joining in herself. "I can't wait to tell Ash about all of this." She said once she had recovered.

"How is the Master twerp anyway?" Persian asked.

"He's...I don't know really, he's just as emotionally constipated and obsessive compulsive as always. He and Pikachu have got it into their heads that they're going on some secret training mission to Mt Silver, all on their own. I can't talk him out of it. Did you know you need a license to go to Mt Silver? I don't know if he's ready for it. Also..." She looked a little wistful, and her gaze wandered. "Anyway, I've convinced him to come on this cruise to hopefully convince him out of it." She brightened again. "And now that you're here it might be even more reason for him to stay - he missed you a lot - and he always respected your opinion."

"Sounds...complicated," Persian said, frowning.

Misty sighed dramatically. "It is."

"So did you two ever get together?"

It was an automatic reaction. Misty's cheeks went bright red, her fists clenched and the volume of her voice peaked. "WE WERE NEVER – I – MEOWTH-gah!" She gritted her teeth, turned away. Several passerby's stopped to stare. One dropped their oran smoothie in shock.

Persian smirked. "Clearly not."

"Well, with that, I'd best be on my way. Brock, I'll see you in two weeks time," She said warmly before dropping her gaze to Persian disdainfully. "Don't bring him." Misty gave Brock a hug, Persian a glare before she turned and walked away.

"See you in two weeks, Twerp!" Persian called, cackling.

"Bye Misty!" Brock shouted. She moved quickly into the crowd. Brock felt weirdly depressed to see her go.

"Hey Misty!" He called just before she had disappeared. She turned back to look at him with one raised eyebrow. "To answer your question, this is my car."

She laughed.

"You did good, Brock. You better give me a ride sometime! Hm, that came out a little dirty! You know what I mean!"

They laughed. As they had not done for years. "Anytime, Misty."

* * *

_The light was unnecessarily harsh in the deep underground of the Vermillion Rocket Base. The building was linked to Diglett's tunnel, which wound deep under Vermillion City, snaking all the way to Pewter. The Rockets often used it to smuggle pokemon, supplies and other things that needed to get across Kanto under the radar. Jessie, James and Meowth picked their way towards the lowest floor, past rows and rows of black trucks, men and women in Rocket uniform about their business, some with chained pokemon in tow._

_They were there to see Giovanni. He had summoned them. For the umpteenth time that month. Jessie's face was stony, James was twitching and Meowth had taken to a constant silence. They had checked their accounts that morning. Jessie's had been closed, and James had only two pokedollars left. They had been kicked out of their grotty flat in Saffron. Jessie was wearing a skirt that had not been washed for three days: there was still a rather resilient mustard stain on the hem. _

_Their boots clanked on the metal platforms that hung suspended along the warehouse walls. There were other Rockets walking past them, most clad in the dark uniform of higher rank, some in the white of the grunts, and once in proper business suits (those were the elites). James averted his eyes as he noticed two dark Rockets drawing near. Both were familiar faces he wished he never had to see. He hoped Redman wouldn't notice him._

_As they passed by, Jessie and himself moving aside to allow them to pass, he heard a sound that was enough to make him curl up and die. The harsh, soft, snigger of Redman Brone. Before he could stop her Jessie had turned to glare furiously at the man. She had no sense of restraint, even when the man in question was tall, incredibly muscular, and terrible. Redman paused in his step, to turn slowly, menacingly. _

"_Jessie, this guy is trouble, just leave it." James muttered as quietly as he could. _

_Jessie's hand was already at Arbok's pokeball. "Shut it, James, he laughed at us." _

"_He'll probably skin us alive next! Just leave it!" James hissed. _

_But Jessie was past boiling point and she had been itching for a fight for days. It didn't help that Redman was sneering at her, already baring his teeth like a vicious dog. A vicious ginger dog. She made to release Arbok, but James grabbed her hand, stopping her. _

"_What are you doing?" She growled, wrenching her hand out of his. Meowth glanced up at them nervously. She turned to face Redman again. _

"_Watch your attitude, little man." She said to the Rocket officer. "You should learn some respect." To James she said in aside. "You can't take everything lying down, James, some people just need a good kick in the…"_

"_Little man? Trust me, Grunt, I'm anything but little." The man smirked, stepping closer. Jessie snorted. _

"_Redman, we don't have time for this." The man's companion said, looking contemptuously at Jessie._

"_Come on, Bundy, let me have a little fun." Redman replied, smiling roguishly at her. _

"_You can have all the fun you want later. But these three are hardly worth your time." She giggled softly. "Haven't you heard? They're not even Rockets anymore."_

_Jessie's sneer faded. James went pale. Meowth hissed under his breath. _

_Redman smirked. "Oh really? Why am I not surprised?"_

"_What are you talking about?" Jessie demanded. _

"_You're lying." James said. _

_Redman chuckled softly. "Why would we? You're right, let's go Bundy, the boss'll take care of these three. Maybe I can make it better later. Especially for you." He said to Jessie, who flushed puce. _

_James stared as the two Rockets walked away, laughing. _

"_I hate that guy. Do you think they're telling the truth?" _

_Jessie shook her head, her anger fading quickly to horror. "Let's go find out."_

_She walked off quickly, not caring about the Rockets she knocked out the way. James followed, the silent Meowth in tow. _

_The boss was hidden in the shadows of his office, like a wild animal in a cave, Jessie could just see his dark suit reflecting a pale sheen in the dim. The smell of whiskey, the clink of ice in a glass, and that pervading scent of cigar were smells she was now familiar with. They were almost nostalgic, like childhood memories of baby blankets and her mother's clothes. But she still felt sick in the dark office. Her eyes were fixed on the Boss, his breathing, his slow smoky exhalations, the piercing rattle of ice as he lifted his drink. He had not offered them anything. _

_James sat beside her, trembling in his chair. Meowth was on her lap, still quiet, but she could feel his accelerated pulse rate, his tense body. _

"_Jessie. James. Meowth." Giovanni finally said. As though contemplating. "How long have you three been working for me?" _

"_Three years." Jessie said. Since she was fifteen._

"_Two years." James said, softly. Since he was sixteen. _

"_Me too, boss." Meowth said, his voice strained. Jessie wondered if he was ill. _

_Giovanni made a deep sound in his chest, an affirmation. "How many pokemon have you brought to me? How much money have you made for Team Rocket?" _

_There was a silence. It was not a silence of people tallying up a ridiculously large amount. Nor was it the silence of people reminiscing pleasantly over the memories of their career. _

_Eventually James said. "Negative 1 million pokedollars." _

"_James." Jessie hissed._

"_He's correct, negative 1 million pokedollars, and 3 cents exactly." Giovanni said lowly. And they heard him recline in his chair. They could not see it for haze and shadow. _

"_That's, in business terms, the cost of five shiny dragonite." Giovanni continued conversationally in the low voice. _

"_Have you ever caught a dragonite?"_

"_No." James said. _

"_Do you see yourself catching one in the near future? Perhaps five, preferably shiny." _

"_Maybe." Jessie said. _

"_That's not really the answer I'm looking for." Giovanni said, not at all sarcastically. He had a measured, gruff way of speaking. As if the smoke had slowed him down, and roughened his tongue. _

"_Boss, we've tried! Every plan we make gets foiled by Ash Ketchum." Jessie said, nearly slapping the desk with emotion. She just barely restrained herself. _

"_The ten year old? The one with the, what was it again? A pikachu…?" Giovanni asked. _

"_Yes." James replied softly. _

"_I'm embarrassed for you." Giovanni murmured. _

"_We'll try harder. We promise." Jessie said._

"_Oh I know. Don't worry about that." Giovanni replied, in a voice that was strangely ominous. Jessie shivered, and her hand moved to grip James'. His was clammy. _

"_I'm giving you three the opportunity to pay back your debts." _

_Jessie and James sighed in relief, just managing to stop themselves from reaching across the seats to hug each other. "Thank you, Boss! You won't regret it!" James said in relief._

"_Oh no, you haven't let me finish." Giovanni said. _

_They became silent, staring. _

"_I have a few business contacts with whom I have some debt. You three will go and work for them. Until you've worked off mine, and your own." _

"_Them?" Jessie asked._

"_Yes, you'll be separated, but I'm sure you don't mind. The three of you seem to breed pathetic-ness when you're together."_

"_No," James stammered. _

_Jessie's hand tightened around James'. They exchanged white, terrified glances. _

"_Starting today, incidentally. Thelonius. Bruce." Giovanni clapped and two burly men stepped out of the shadows where they had probably been standing the entire time. James and Jessie did not let go of each other's hands, Meowth was clutched in Jessie's free arm. _

_The men grabbed each ex-Rocket by the shoulder, and the larger of the two grabbed Meowth from Jessie's arms. _

"_Say your goodbyes." Giovanni said softly. "I've said mine." _

"_Jessie!" James yelled, as his hand was wrenched from hers and he was lifted easily into the air by Bruce, who already had Meowth under his arm. The pokemon had already passed out. _

"_James!" Jessie screeched, scratching the brute who had lifted her over his shoulder. "Meowth!" She yelled, reaching an arm that was many many metres too short out towards the pokemon. _

_James was being led away, through a different door to the one she was going through. He was nearly out of sight. He was kicking and yelling in vain, shouting to her, growing softer, and dimmer, and vanishing. _

_She screamed, as loudly as she could, surprised at the volume of her own voice, and the hotness of her tears suddenly on her cheeks as she hadn't felt them truly in years. Her last sight was of Giovanni smoking pensively on a cigar, before the door slammed and she was enveloped by darkness._

* * *

Blink. "Jessie, are you okay?" James asked, his eyes keenly fixed on Jessie's very pale face. He was holding up a white shirt, it had the word 'RED' written on it in red. Jessie had thought back to another shirt that had been much like it. Before she knew it, she had thought back to a different time altogether, one she had spent years trying to simultaneously cling to and forget.

"I was just thinking of our Team Rocket days," She said to James.

James looked at the shirt he was holding, and frowned. "I suppose this wasn't the most tactful choice." He put it down, and lifted another one. It was a black shirt studded with roses along the neckline.

"What do you think of this one?"

He held it to his own body as if Jessie would somehow have a better idea of how it would look on her. She smiled weakly. She really didn't want to be ungrateful but the shirt was, quite frankly, hideous.

In an attempt to distract him rather than deny his choice of shirt she pointed at another. "What about that, it's adorable!" She had pointed at random, and was surprised to find a rather pretty item of apparel lying in the direction of her finger. It was a white cotton blouse with a pretty blue pattern stitching.

"Yes, that would look nice. Why don't you try it on?" James suggested, plucking the shirt up and once again holding it against himself. It suddenly reminded Jessie of their younger days when James was just as likely to dress up as a girl as he would a man. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled a pair of inflatable breasts he had once donned.

"What are you smiling at?" James asked, also smiling already.

She played absentmindedly with the hem of her skirt. "Your former cross-dressing habits." She replied.

James laughed. "Oh yes, I did have a fascination with women's clothing didn't I?" His eyes followed her fingers as they moved along her skirt. "In a very different way to how I do now." He said softly.

She looked at him, and it was hard to say that the man that stood before her had ever had such a fetish. He was wearing, to her, what seemed like very masculine apparel from the suit pants, leather shoes and the loose-buttoned shirt to the rimless glasses he wore.

"I can hardly remember it looking at you now." She admitted.

"Maybe I can try on a dress while we're here." He suggested, with a shrug and a smirk.

"Really?" She asked. "Maybe I could put on thigh high leather boots like I used to have?"

"Maybe you should." He said seriously. She was surprised to see the gleam in his eyes, and wondered if the same was reflected in her own. If it even could be.

"Jessie." He said.

"James." She replied, feeling a real smile tug at her lips.

"Team Rocket dress up at the speed of light!"

"To the changing rooms or prepare to fight!"

"Where's Meowth?" They said simultaneously with matching dramatic sighs.

Some time later, they returned home, shopping bags in tow. Jessie was almost looking chipper. James had been watching her carefully the entire day.

"So…what were you thinking about earlier? You didn't tell me," He said.

"I was thinking about that day when Giovanni called us to the office. The last day," Jessie said, quietly.

James closed his eyes briefly as he recalled the day with a pain in his chest that was almost unbearable. "Why, Jessie?"

"It's almost turned into a good memory for me. Over the years, I kept thinking of the last time I saw you and Meowth. I didn't know if you were alive or dead. That was my last memory, and although I didn't know where you were at least I knew you were breathing. I clung to that." Jessie said, and James watched her grip her arms tightly.

He grabbed her. "What did they do to you? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Jessie." She couldn't escape from the intensity of his eyes. They bore into hers, they conquered her, they fought their way into her, but she was stronger. She always had been, and now the walls she had erected were too high for anybody to get through. She wrenched herself from his grip.

Then she ran.

The instinct was too strong. She hated how terrified she was. How scared. It was James. She loved him. And yet…she was too broken now. Too broken for him. He might cut himself on the pieces of her soul. He already had. She couldn't get his pained eyes out of her head, the face that had crumpled as she'd torn away from him. Again.

He was waiting for her in front of the gates when she finally returned. She still had a shopping bag in one hand, as did he. They stared at each other. Then, slowly, gently, he took her free hand. She didn't pull away this time.

There was too much to say. So they didn't say anything.

* * *

Brock watched Jessie and James as they silently ate their food at the dinner table. James was sitting protectively close to Jessie, his arm touching hers reassuringly. Persian was sitting beside Brock, also silent, as he swallowed strips of fried goldeen whole.

"I have something to say. Partly because I do actually have an announcement and partly because this silence is making me feel weird," Brock said. Everyone looked up. "I ran into Misty Waterflower today, and she invited me to take a cruise with her in two weeks time. I'd say we all need a nice long holiday. So what do you say? Are you guys keen?"

Persian nodded. "Hell yes, even if it's just ta annoy ol' Red."

"The Twerpette?" Jessie blurted out.

"Yeah, her, she is my friend you know," Brock smirked.

"That sounds great. Just what we need I think," James said. "Right, Jess?"

Jessie hesitated but then nodded.

"So it's settled! I'll call Misty right away." Brock jumped up from the table and fled from the room.

Persian sighed, "I can see what's happening."

"What?" asked James.

"He doesn't have a clue," Persian rolled his eyes.

"Who?"

"He'll get back with the twerps and here's the bottom line. Our trio, I suppose it's a foursome now, is down to two, no three." Persian said.

"Oh. Persian, you really need to stop watching Disney movies." James sighed.

"What? Nala's hot."

* * *

**a/n:** It's become tradition to have two! And I'm a stickler for tradition. Next chapter we will learn more about what happened to Jessie, James, Persian, Brock, Misty and Ash! But it's not only the past that is tugging at their emotions, but their futures...


	5. Act I: Part Four

**A/N: **So this chapter was going on 11 000 words initially. I was forced to cut it into two. The chapter after that is also too long, so it was also cut into two. Looks like this story is going on much longer than I planned XD. Because the next one is already written there shouldn't be a long wait until I upload it. If anyone is up for the challenge, they should try and guess in what language the poem below was originally written in, and by who…it's harder than you think ;)

* * *

**Tragic Kingdom Act I: **

**Chapter 4: Before the Storm **

_Across the world this June, the petals all have fallen,_

_But the mountain temple's peach blossom has just begun to bloom._

_I regretted so much that spring had gone without a trace,_

_I didn't know that it had only moved up here._

Misty stood at the reception of the Vermillion Sunset Hotel, patiently waiting as they checked her out.

"Thank you, Mrs Trov – oh, my apologies…Ms Waterflower," The receptionist, Lila, who Misty was very familiar with after many stays at this particular hotel, was very very flustered. She pushed her purple spectacles up her sweaty nose, and then dropped the papers she was holding.

Misty watched her in silent fury and mortification. She then said as nicely as she could muster. "For your information, we were never married. Just engaged."

"I'm sorry, I just thought…that by now…you would've, oh dear…" Lila wisely stopped talking. She took Misty's card key. "Thank you for choosing to stay with us, again, Ms Waterflower."

Misty nodded, deciding not to reply and then walked off. Before she left through the huge glass doors, she turned back and called to Lila. "I never would've changed my surname anyway!"

She stepped out into the bright streets of Vermillion, where people passed her wearing nothing but swimwear or flimsy dresses as lurid as flowers. It was late afternoon but still busy. Misty decided it was all too colourful, too cheery and so chose to slip on her sunglasses. She made a beeline towards the harbour, where the _Waterflower_ was anchored. With but a week to departure, there was much to prepare. Also, her cabin, after a month of renovation was ready to stay in. She was all too grateful to be out of that hotel, where her face was way too familiar.

With a sudden buzzing and a blasting chorus of "The Dead Sea" by the Lumineers, Misty's phone rang. Her heart skipped it's perfunctory beat, as it always did when Ash called. He had been away for two weeks training in the deep wilderness somewhere, far away from civilization. The truth was she had missed him far more than she had her ex-fiancee. _I am_ so_ pathetic. _She answered it. "Ash."

"Misty- are -right now? I- got back from -" She could hardly hear him because of loud wind in the background.

"I'm in Vermillion City, heading towards the harbour," She replied, shouting to compensate for her own lack of hearing. Several passer-bys veered away from her, with incredulous expression.

"Meet- there-" He said, and the phone abruptly cut off. She pocketed it, and looked up at the sky. Almost as if he had planned it, like the roar of a Concorde, she heard and then saw a flash of orange shoot across the blue. Pedestrians glanced up in surprise at the sudden sound and flash of fire. But it was gone before anyone had much time to look and identify it properly.

Misty knew exactly who, rather than what it was.

* * *

It was the weekend. The mall was crowded. Jessie was watching Brock and Persian agonize over sweaters to wear for the voyage. She wondered at the sheer amount of time she had spent in the shopping malls recently.

"Is maroon my colour?" Brock asked holding a jersey against himself.

"I've seen you in teal. You look amazing in teal," Persian answered.

"Thanks, what about this yellow cashmere?"

"It just screams egotist. Try that cream one over there, yes, much better."

"Maybe I shouldn't have left you alone with those two…" James said, as he appeared beside her, holding a few shopping bags.

Brock and Persian were now trying out clothes for the cat. "Those hours at the gym have really been paying off." Brock said to Persian. "That looks so good on you. What do you think James?"

"Looks good, Perj. What about another one in blue?" James answered, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I mean look at the cut of it, it just accentuates my figure," Persian said, stretching out to show off his lithe body to show off the jersey – it was a shade of neon yellow.

"You have to buy it. It's a must have," Brock said, crossing his arms and somehow looking authoritive.

Jessie's attention was beginning to wander. She and James had finished all of their shopping earlier that morning. He had gotten her a nice travel case for the cruise, as well as a few necessities like a few outfits, suntan lotion, a hat, sunglasses, and a few other luxuries that she had tried to refuse. They were supposed to have lunch soon but Brock and Persian had taken their time at every store, trying on the wares and complimenting each other's egos with every ridiculous outfit.

She was staring at the other customers, wondering at how normal they looked.

Jessie's eye caught on a dark haired man who seemed to be shopping with his young blonde daughter. _Mortaguy! _Her heart froze in her chest. Unbidden, she grabbed James' arm and stepped behind him. _They haven't seen me yet._

"Jessie, what's wrong? You've gone pale." James looked down at her with concern.

She hardly heard him, so intent she was on the man whose back was towards her as he picked out pyjamas for his daughter. James followed her line of sight.

"Who is he? Jessie, who, is he the one who…?" James' eyes narrowed.

Before she could stop him he was racing across the store.

* * *

It was two hours before mall security released him. James apologized once more to them.

"Thank god you didn't have your gun," Brock said as James walked to them in the parking lot, looking grim.

"Thank god it wasn't the real guy, he'd be dead by now," Persian said.

"I'm sorry, James," Jessie said, her eyes red from crying. "I thought…I…"

"It's not your fault, Jessie. If I ever get my hands on that guy…" James said, his fists clenched.

"Well, maybe we should all go get some drinks to cool our heads, yeah? Persian?" Brock suggested. "You guys can wait here, I don't think mall security will be too happy seeing you again, James. Any preferences?"

"Lemonade please," Jessie said.

"Get me a fresh water," James said.

Brock and Persian left. James turned to Jessie, frowning. "I need to know what happened, Jessie."

"I need to know details, you hardly told me anything when you arrived here. What happened? Why are you so afraid of this man? What did he do to you?" He had such an intense look in his eyes she felt afraid. She felt afraid because he would know, he would find out sooner or later and she wouldn't be able to hide in the darkness of her past, he would see her for who she was. All of who she was. The brokenness, the twistedness, the ugliness. He would realize that this was what she had become, and that she was unfixable. He would lose interest in her, he would lose hope, and he would be disgusted at her weakness.

She wanted him to.

If he didn't know, if he didn't realize what a monster Mortaguy was, he would continue to run after him. Jessie knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if anything happened to James because of her. If he got killed fighting Mortaguy on her behalf…

She pulled him closer and began talking. She didn't want anyone else to hear. This was a story only for his ears.

She told him simply about being held captive. How she had been made to work for Mortaguy, to care for his daughter, but also how he had used her. She didn't speak much of how. Sometimes he beat her. She told him how she was kept in the basement, often chained to a wall when Mortaguy went out. Mortaguy was supposedly a powerful criminal in the Vermillion area, and he made her test all his food before he ate it for poison. He decided that was most of the food he would give her. Sometimes she got leftovers. She knew nothing about his life, or about Dolly's because they were very secretive. She escaped early one morning after Mortaguy had gotten unconsciously drunk following the celebration of some successful business venture. It must have been important because he had never allowed himself to be so out of control. She had left through the back gate of the garden, Dolly had followed her. But she had let Jessie go.

* * *

Jessie was sitting in the garden, in the shade of a great tree. She had needed to get out of the house, with its tense atmosphere, and she had needed to be alone with herself. She sensed James approaching. He had a blue eye. She felt terrible. It was her fault that he was hurt. And the man hadn't even been Mortaguy in the end…

He sat down beside her in the grass.

"So I was thinking…about what happened," he said. "I thought maybe this would make you feel a bit safer, especially if I'm not around." He handed her a small gift-wrapped box.

"James…" He was too generous all the time. She felt terrible accepting his gifts especially because she couldn't repay him – not yet. Inside the box was a black pokeball.

"It's a trained police Mightyena. They're fiercely loyal, and well trained to deal with assailants, burglers, any threat you can imagine. You can have him guard your room at night…I know it's not Arbok or any of your old Pokemon but…until we find them I thought this would help you."

Jessie clipped the Pokeball to her belt. She looked James dead in the eye and said, "Thank you, James. Thank you over and over again."

He looked away, almost shyly. "I just want you to know you don't have to be afraid anymore. I'll always be here to help you."

She nodded, knowing that she would never be able to show him how grateful she was.

* * *

The sun was starting to redden when Misty arrived at the harbour. The_ Waterflower_ was easily the largest ship there, along with the _S.S Anne_. It was an absolutely beautiful ship, every angle on her pointed shape smooth and streamlined. The whole ship was white as pure mountain snow. And all of it, absolutely all of it was in Misty's name.

She saw Charizard circling above the ship. A small crowd of sailors, dockworkers, pub owners and tourists had gathered to watch the great Pokemon perform feats of aerial daring. Misty rolled her eyes. The Pokemon had not changed at all over the years, and neither had his trainer.

She had called ahead to let Portsy, her first mate, know to lower the gangplank. He was waiting for her, his face also raised to sky to watch the fiery spectacle. When he saw Misty approach, he quickly bowed low in a joking manner.

"Your ship, m'lady," Portsy said, grinning.

"She's even more beautiful than I ever could have imagined," Misty said and genuinely meant it. She stepped aboard the ship, and beheld it as it looked just before it's first voyage. The crew had been hard at work preparing the ship for over a month. The floors were gleaming as if they had been coated with liquid diamond. Every porthole was polished until the glass was indiscernible from air. With Portsy following behind her, giving her an update of progress and a list of all the things that were still left to do, she went to the deck.

The sun was slipping towards the horizon now, its sinking was inevitable. It shone a desperate orange light upon the ship, as it was painfully pulled away. Misty saw Ash and Charizard had alighted near the bow, waiting for her. Charizard's wings were spread taking in the final warmth of the day; Ash was leaning against the dragon's great body, his back to Misty.

Her shoes made a satisfying thud on the deck. It was made of the finest Chesto hardwood, polished to a glistening raw honey colour. She stopped beside Ash, where the bow rose to a sharp point before giving way to a deep blue sea. From where she stood Misty could see a flawless sky meet a peaceful sea, and in her own heart she felt something similar. He turned to her, grinning.

Before her mind could process his greeting ("There she is! Captain Waterflower!"), she was momentarily stunned by his appearance. His submersion into the wilderness had left him with a rugged beard, and he had been growing his hair for some time (mostly through sheer neglect) – it was now blowing luxuriously in the ocean breeze.

"Charizard, Ash," She said, then gasping a little. "What did you do to your face?" She liked it, far more than she would admit, but their years of playful ribbing had been too long ingrained in her.

Charizard exhaled a dark cloud of amusement along with a rumbling laugh.

Ash touched his face self-consciously. "I thought it made me look more manly,"

"Give up now, Ash, that's a hopeless cause, " Misty said, ruffling his hair.

"Hey! I'm very manly!" Ash cried, indignant. Misty smirked.

"So what do you think of my ship?"

"I was about to say congratulations before you started criticizing my man-beard. It's absolutely amazing!" He said. "Best ship I've ever seen. So shiny…" He stared longingly at the shimmering floors. Then he looked up at her, smiling. "You're lucky, all your dreams are coming true."

She was slightly touched. "Aw, thanks, Ash." She hugged him. And he, her. They hugged for slightly longer than was normal. She didn't want to acknowledge how much she was enjoying it.

"You know it's funny, Misty," Ash began when he finally released her. "I haven't felt this happy since I won the league. I'm so happy for you."

She studied him closely, and then squeezed his hand, which was beside hers on the railing. They were quiet for a while as they looked out at the sunset over the whispering ocean, and listened to Charizard's loud smoky breathing.

This was different.

In the recent weeks, she and Ash had been fighting quite badly. He was very adamant about going deep into Mt. Silver to train, feeling that he and his Pokemon had reached a plateau and needed more stimulation in order to progress. Misty felt, because of the perilous dangerous Pokemon and environment at , that it wasn't a good idea for him to go. He was by measure of more than a head and shoulders the greatest trainer in the world already, there was no need for him to train more. His Charizard flew faster than the speed of sound, for Mew's sake – there was absolutely no reason for him to go. Besides, if he did go he'd be away for months, maybe years. There was something about that that made Misty deeply uncomfortable.

She was afraid to say anything lest the moment be over.

Ash muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Misty asked.

"From Kanto to Unova: the world over…" He replied. It was the tagline for the cruise. An advert featuring Misty and _the Waterflower _had appeared in many magazines and posters with those very words emblazoned beneath Misty's smiling face.

"It's a bit cheesy, isn't it?" She asked then looked around to acknowledge Portsy who had come up with the line. He had left already. "Portsy thought it was catchy."

"About Portsy, what's he like as a first mate?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It's just, I always thought, it must have been one of those unspoken agreements between us, "Ash grinned. "If you were Captain, I must be first mate."

"Oh dear, did I violate the unspoken agreement?" Misty asked, smiling. "I'll warn Portsy that you're trying to steal his job."

Charizard seemed to grow bored of their conversation, and took flight, deciding to fly just above the waves, skimming his feet.

"So what's the cruise going to be like?" Ash asked.

"We'll have a five star crew – " Misty answered.

"Which I will be enjoying the full benefits of…" He smirked.

"-and five star dining-"

"Now I really can't wait!" He salivated.

"-and best of all just imagine all the exotic people I will be ferrying across the eleven seas!"

Misty sighed with happiness. "It's going to be fantastic. It's the only thing keeping me going right now."

Ash looked uncomfortable. "How _are _you doing, Mist?"

"I'm fine, Ash. I hardly think about Rudy…" She said. _Because I'm almost always thinking of somebody else… _

"That's good…" Ash said uncertainly. Misty felt a little guilty. He still didn't know _why_ she and Rudy had broken up. Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "I just ask…'cause Pikachu said…"

"Where is Pikachu today?"

"Oh, he's in the bathroom. Flying at high speeds makes him a bit sick sometimes."

"What did he say?"

"Never mind…I…yeah," Ash trailed off.

The strange secretiveness, reminded Misty suddenly of Brock.

"Oh Mew, Ash! I completely forgot to tell you the most important news of all! Guess who's going to be on the cruise with us?"

"Who?" Ash asked. He seemed glad for the subject change.

"Brock!"

"What?"

"I met him in Vermillion the other day. He's just the same as ever, maybe a bit more stylish…"

"I can't believe it! I haven't seen Brock in years…" Ash was smiling ear to ear. "Ash, Brock and Misty reunited." He said wistfully. "It'll be like the old days."

It was a cue for them to begin nostalgically reminiscing about their youth. Not that they were old, Misty thought.

After talking some more, Misty gave Ash a tour of the ship. It was extensive, covering every aspect of the ship. Ash decided it was like a modern day _Titanic_ though he hoped _the Waterflower _had enough lifeboats. He saw cabin after cabin which Misty insisted on calling "staterooms", a dining hall that doubled as a ballroom, battle arena (which he was pretty excited about) and theatre, the engine room, Misty's Captain's cabin ("the great cabin!"). By the time they had reached the ship's operation room he was decidedly worked out. Misty waved him over to a settee on which he collapsed in exhaustion. She strode over to the ship's control, which was a classic wooden ship's wheel. She had chosen the wheel over the more modern control -a simple toggle. The wheel just heighted the romanticism of the whole affair, and it was with pride that she gently touched it. She pointedly ignored the "power steering" label emblazoned on the wheel's stand.

Apparently recovered, Ash came to stand beside her. He pointed curiously at another example of Misty's adherence to tradition. A vintage engine order telegraph complete with dial, dial indications and brass handle. It was not a necessity on the ship considering Misty actually had the more modern version of the same technology installed, but she just couldn't help going for authenticity.

They both looked up as the door opened, admitting a distinctly green looking Pikachu. He almost looked like a shiny.

"Pikachu!" Misty cried, excitably. The yellow mouse perked up significantly at the sight of her, and ran into her arms.

"You didn't greet me like that," Ash grumbled as Misty and Pikachu shared a long embrace.

"Pikachupi!"

"How was training? I hope you didn't wear yourself out," Misty said with concern.

("Nobody asked me if I was worn out…" Ash muttered)

"Pika pi Pikachu," Pikachu said.

"Luckily we have a two week cruise to relax. Have you seen your cabin?"

"Pika!"

"Good, Portsy really is on the ball. We're gonna have dinner now, you hungry? I told Portsy to make fish tonight, yes, we do have ketchup…" Misty and Pikachu started walking off, chattering intimately as they did, towards the dining hall. Ash followed, feeling like a third wheel.

They were deeply immersed in a fantastic dinner, Charizard was enjoying some kind of flambé, Ash had gone to the bathroom, and that was when Pikachu leaned conspiratorially towards Misty. The yellow mouse kept his voice low as he said, "Pika chu pika chu Pikachupi, pikachaaa."

Misty dropped her fork. "He _what? _He said _what?_"

[[ I'm not joking. He said he was thinking of canceling his trip to Mt. Silver because you broke up with Rudy. ]]

"Why?"

[[The only reason he wanted to go was because – ]] Pikachu hastily stopped talking. Ash had returned.

He sat down beside Misty, who was gaping at him a little bit. "What?" He said self – consciously.

"There's food stuck in your beard," Misty said hastily.

"Oh."

"I'll help –" Thankfully there actually was food there, and Misty deftly plucked it out.

"Thanks, Mist," Ash said and continued eating. Pikachu glanced between them, smiling.

Misty stared at his downturned head, pondering. He always looked so sweetly innocent when engaged in the acts of eating and sleeping – it was his enthusiasm for every aspect of living that was endearing. She felt a tender feeling well up inside her.

"Ash – "

"Misty- "

They had spoken at the same time. "Ah, you go first," She said, but just as she did her phone gave an exuberant ring. _Dead Sea, you told me I was like the Dead Sea – finest words you ever said to me_

She was rather surprised to see whom it was calling. "It's Rudy…one second…" She got up and walked away to answer. She glanced back at Ash at the table, and was surprised at the look on his face. He was frowning deeply.

"Hi, Rudy?"

* * *

During the past five years, James and Persian had both struggled just as much as Jessie. Persian had been a street fighter. Giovanni had sold him to a Nuzlocke or Black, as they were also known, battling ring. In these battles, Pokemon always fought to the death. For a Meowth who had never battled a day in his life, was incapable of learning the trademark Pay Day move and was generally cowardly in the face of any much larger, stronger Pokemon: it was an absolute stroke of Divine Intervention that he had survived. James had found him in a battered old 'Coliseum' as they were called. He was something of a Champion in Black battling circles. No one was quite sure how he had managed to survive, and even thrive, how he had managed to evolve or become so strong. He had never told James what happened and, James suspected he never would.

Meowth, or Persian as he had become, hid behind humour and wit and never revealed even a hint of vulnerability. He had changed so much, except for one thing: he still spoke more than a drunken Chatot. He had joined James in his occupation as Brock's security guard. They made an amazing team.

Persian was not even surprised that James had become a detective, and then a security guard for a well known celebrity. He wasn't surprised at the changes wrought in James, he was more surprised that he hadn't changed _more. _It was true that out of the three Team Rocket members, James had had the easiest lot after Giovanni fired them that fateful day. He had gotten a job at Flower Fodder Co. A flower shop that was a front for more nefarious trade. It turned out that the police was unwittingly escorting some of the more precious goods across the country. They had been heavily infiltrated by undercover Rockets who had risen quite high up in the police ranks. Giovanni easily had the entirety of the Johto and Kanto regions on puppet strings. The Rockets held the law, the police, the government, trade and the casinos quite comfortably in their grip.

All James had to do was deliver flowers. Mr Rulerceses, his boss, had given him a pink and green scooter with which to do his deliveries. It was almost a fun job. In his spare time he was often at the police station, asking for help in finding Jessie (and for a time Meowth before he found him), putting up missing persons posters, often encountering Rocket agents who usually sniggered and laughed at him. They often claimed to know where Jessie was, but they were always lying. James followed hundreds of dead ends.

When Mr. Rulerceses died, six months after James started working for him, and a new stricter police commissioner was appointed, there began harsh crackdowns on local crime. Flower Fodder Co. was uncovered to be a front for a drug business. James lost his job, but he aided the police in arresting those involved. As a long time member of Team Rocket, he had more inside information than most. He was single handedly responsible for the dissolution of the entire Vermillion branch of Team Rocket as he exposed every rotten police officer, every dodgy business, every one of Giovanni's agents in the city. He wanted revenge for what Team Rocket had done to him.

He was responsible for the arrest of the prominent policeman Brone Redman who was in reality also a very prominent and high up member of Team Rocket. Only until two months ago, he had still been receiving death threats from Redman in prison. James would always hate Redman the most because he had been the one to tell them about their fate the day Giovanni fired them. It had caused James particular satisfaction to see Redman in an orange prison uniform.

After his success, he became a detective: a job that was very suitable for getting access to police records and inside information.

Everyday he searched for Jessie, losing sleep, not eating, obsessed only with finding his friend. It was around those times that he began wearing glasses. He had strained his eyes every night reading files about reported deaths, trafficking rings, and more horrible fates that could have befallen Jessie. It was with relief whenever he read a name in those files that wasn't hers but his dread grew, his fear, his grief when he never found her name too. Eventually he answered Brock's ad for a guard. They became fast friends. Life was a bit better. He was reunited with Persian.

He had told all of this to Jessie when she had returned. He was so relieved that she was alive, relatively unharmed, safe with him. He knew the moment he had seen her again that he would never let her leave him again, that he would protect her no matter what, and now…now he had a new purpose. He also knew that he would help her to feel like herself again, to help her feel safe and also to get revenge on the man who had harmed her.

Revenge.

He was searching the police's online records and could find absolutely nothing on this 'Mortaguy.' He was not in any public records, it was almost as if he didn't exist. Mortaguy must be a false name. Jessie couldn't tell him the address where she had been held all those years, because she had not been able to leave the house. James suspected she didn't want to lead him back either.

Before he went to bed that night, he checked in on Jessie. She was asleep but he could see she was dreaming or perhaps having a nightmare. Her face was pinched and she was whispering and moaning slightly in her sleep. The Mightyena he had given her was lying at the foot of her bed, both eyes and ears focusing on him even before he'd opened the door. He was glad for the dog who would guard her body from harm, but how to guard her heart from her fears. He closed the door, frowning angrily.

_Revenge. _

All James knew now was that he would start carrying his gun again now, and that if he ever laid eyes on the man, Mortaguy, he didn't care if he was arrested or not: he would kill him.

* * *

**a/n:** Reviews would be very much appreciated :) They just get updates out that much faster! ;)


	6. Act II: Part One

**A/N: **This is actually Part Two of the previous chapter. It was just too long, and needed cutting. Again, anyone up to the challenge of working out the origin and author of the poem below? :D I like to think they suit each chapter very well, but of course that is up to the reader.

* * *

**Tragic Kindgom: Act II **

**Chapter 5: Rising Tides **

_Her handkerchief all soaked in tears, she cannot dream,_

_In deepest night before the palace voices sing._

_Her rosy cheeks aren't old, but first love has been cut,_

_Leaning, wreathed in smoke, she sits until the dawn_

* * *

A week went by in the flash of an eye. Brock almost felt as if he had whiplash as he stood outside the doors of the mansion, looking at his glinting platinum watch. Time had moved too quickly. Jessie and James were standing by the loaded car, full of all their luggage, with Alfred, looking mildly cantankerous, at the wheel. Rosette was in the passenger seat, as the resident Psychic, she was the best help with the luggage. They were all waiting for Persian, who despite not carrying or packing much luggage at all, was the latest one. With only twenty minutes to go before departure time, Persian swaggered out of the mansion.

"What are all youse guy waitin' around for?" He asked, perplexed, as he got into the car. Brock rolled his eyes and ushered everyone inside.

The weather was bad. There had been storms that entire week. Alfred tried to drive quickly towards the harbour, but there was the risk of skidding. Then they got into traffic along the highway. Brock could not help but look at his watch every thirty seconds. Beside him Jessie looked anxious, her hands were knotted in her lap. Brock wondered if their decision to go on the cruise was perhaps too soon for her. She needed more time in the safety and sanctuary of the house. But at the same time, what could be safer than a boat on the ocean isolated from all the troubles of the world? Brock decided that the trip would be good for her. James, however, had come prepared. Ever since the shopping trip, James had been carrying around his old police issue gun. It glinted ominously from James' hip. Sprawled across the Brock, Jessie and James, was Persian who looked, as usual, like he was on holiday. He and Brock had already vowed to find hot chicks, tan on the deck, eat all the buffet food and generally have the best time of their lives.

With only five minutes until the ship would sail, Alfred pulled the car up at the docks. He and Rosette jumped out, and began the process of unloading the luggage. Brock, Jessie, Persian and James stepped out into the torrential rain, cursing their lack of an umbrella. Rosette was levitating all the luggage telekinetically, while Alfred solemnly bid farewell to his employers before getting back in the car. They hurried across the dock to the gangplank which looked as if they were preparing to raise it. There were two petite attendants standing on either side.

They intended to embark but one of the attendants stepped in front of them.

"One moment, do you have tickets?" She said. Her name tag read "Shelly".

"We do," Brock said, brandishing them. Shelly was about to let them through when the other attendant, Sandy, stopped her.

"Hold on, the Joys are about to embark. Would you mind standing aside for one moment? We'll come and help you as soon as the nurses have boarded. Sorry for the inconvenience." She indicated a covered gazebo where they could stand with their luggage. Brock frowned. Persian yowled in annoyance. But they all complied because Nurse Joys were medical officials and always got priority. They stood dripping beneath the gazebo.

"I hope this isn't a portent for things to come," James said, glancing up at the sky, which flickered with lightning and then growled with thunder. The sea was also rough, and James wondered if the boat would be able to set sail in the ridiculously bad weather. He looked at the sheer amount of luggage they had amassed and that Rosette had carried for them. Jessie was the lightest with her red duffel bag and the new leather case he had got her. Persian didn't carry much except his claws and James only had three bags of varying sizes. It was Brock who had over packed. James stared at his friend's two large cases, full of clothes, and the two smaller ones full of 'vacationing supplies' and the last travelling case full of…well even he wasn't sure.

James saw the Joys approaching through the mist.

The Joys had been hired to care for Pokemon aboard the ship for the duration of the trip. There were six of them, all dressed from head to toe in identical nurse's garb. Five of them wore the standard pink dress, white apron and nurse's hat. The sixth was obviously the head nurse and wore a variation of the other uniform sans the headgear and with more decoration on her shoulders and dress. They walked in a militaristic formation, more like a queen and her handmaidens than medical staff. Since it was blustering with rain the Joys all had umbrellas, they walked in twos, barely daunted by the storm. James couldn't help but be in awe of their grace and poise. The Joys had been to some of the worst parts of the world to give help and care for the ill. A small storm did not bother them.

As soon as the last pink head had vanished into the ship, three burly men and a Machoke appeared, with Sandy and Shelly in tow.

"May we help with your luggage?" Sandy asked, gesturing for the men to begin picking up the suitcases.

"You sure know how to pack!" One of them said. He tried to lift one of Brock's bags experimentally but fell over. Persian snorted.

"Brock, you ready?" James asked but Brock didn't respond. James glanced at him. The man's face seemed to be frozen in a rictus of shock.

**By Brock's watch: 2 minutes earlier. **

Brock glanced up, at the sound of thunder, and in a flash of lightning his heart momentarily stopped beating. There had been six Nurse Joys advancing slowly up the gangplank, all of them toting umbrellas, all of them looking impossibly poised in the windy storm. As Brock had looked up, a bolt of lightning had flashed in the background illuminating the face of one of the Joys who had lifted her head to feel the rain on her face. _I know you…_

A strand of pink hair flew loose from her hat as she looked up. The wild lock fluttered in the breeze before she caught it with a pale hand. Snatch. Brock's thoughts seemed to be caught in her hand, immobilized by her touch, if she ever let go he thought he would go mad. _I know you. _

She walked up the gangplank, the last of six Joys, the umbrella barely covered her, but she didn't seem to care. He would never forget how she loved to stand in the rain and let the raindrops fall. He would never forget how she would stare at the grey sky, a small little girl under a huge dark sky, and just smile at the rain. He would never forget because…_I know you. I…_

He wondered at the ruffling of her pink skirt, it sounded like the white noise that had rapidly filled his mind at the sight of her. As if everything had gone into slow motion, Brock found himself paralysed to even call out to her let alone move towards her. As if time and space had eliminated everything and everyone around them, all he could see, all he wanted to see, was her small smile and the rain slipping over her skin. Her lashes fluttered around her blue eyes, and it was as if his heart broke when she didn't look at him. The lightning flashed white.

_I…_

The moment ended, because she disappeared into the ship, the lightning died, the rain continued. Brock felt like the floor had literally caved out beneath him and he had just fallen straight through the earth and fallen out the other end. He was still falling. He couldn't catch himself. Nobody could. Only…

"Brock? Brock are you okay?" Jessie asked, touching him gently on the shoulder. Persian was cowering beside her, hissing at their cold, wet surroundings. James was staring at him, while Shelly and Sandy were organising the porters with their luggage. But James could only see the tragedy on Brock's face. He looked like it was taking a great effort for him to continue living. He was so pale, he might have been petrified.

Concerned, Jessie reached up to touch Brock's face, gently pulling it towards hers. "Brock?" His eyes were blank (as much as she could tell…)

Jessie stared hard at Brock. He did not respond to her questions, even though he was looking right at her and could definitely hear her. She dropped her hand, feeling it hang awkwardly at her side. What on earth had just happened to Brock, short of an invisible zombie gligor swooping in and stealing his soul, Jessie could not understand what had happened to the brawny rap star.

**The Present **

"Let's go. Sandy said we're the last passengers to embark and they want to depart," James forcefully pulled Brock along and shot Jessie a look of confusion over his shoulder. She shrugged. They were dripping wet all over the floor when they entered the ship. Misty stood there with her first mate, Portsy, to welcome them in.

"Brock! I thought I had missed you or perhaps you weren't coming! Welcome _aboard the Waterflower!_" Misty said, in an excited voice.

At the sound of Misty's voice, Brock snapped out of his strange reverie. "Thanks, Misty, it's a beautiful ship. Congratulations…Thanks for inviting us. I'm sure you remember Jessie, James and, of course, Persian?"

By the look on her face, she did. All too well. "Hi," Misty said, in an undoubtedly lukewarm manner. But James was warm when he hugged her like an old friend. And even Jessie genuinely smiled when she saw Misty.

After some more awkward conversation, they all decided to go to their cabins, to settle in. Sandy and Shelly were happy to direct them to their rooms. Misty grabbed Brock by the arm before he could leave. "Let's have dinner later? Around 6 at the _Water Lily_ restaurant? I have a personal table, just ask for Waterflower. Ash'll be there. Maybe you can introduce me to Team Ro…your friends properly?"

Brock nodded. Misty noted that he seemed distracted. She didn't have too long to ponder because Portsy was urging her to the operation room: it was time to set sail.

* * *

The operation room was filled with Misty's crew. She was at the bridge along with Portsy, Briny, Salty and Chippy: her officers. The storm outside was terrible. It screamed along the passages, and racked the ship in the waves.

"The worst weather for a ship's first voyage…" Portsy muttered. "The passengers may be uneasy. The Joys will have their hands full…"

"You worry too much, Portsy," Misty said. "Thanks to Shelly and Sandy's efforts, the dining hall is offering a fantastic dinner and entertainment. They'll be too distracted to notice the weather."

There was a feeling of atmosphere in the operation room. This was the ship's first voyage. This was Misty's first voyage as her captain. It was obvious in Misty's bearing the feeling of pride and achievement, she stood straight and her attention was fully on the job at hand.

Ash was sitting on the couch, watching the proceedings. Pikachu was watching with avid attention as Misty took to the controls and began steering the ship. She gave orders calmly and knowledgeably to her crew. Under her expert hand, they were soon out of the Vermilllion harbour and out on the open waters.

They had a panoramic view of the open ocean. The ship cut through the turbulent waters like a javelin in the air. It had a sharply pointed bow that suggested a speedy predator. Ash saw the land pull away, the harbour become smaller and smaller, fainter and fainter and eventually all he could see was fog. Lightning danced across the horizon, but the crew seemed to believe the storm was abating. In fact, as they watched, a cloud burst in their path, beaming down like a spotlight, flecking the ocean in bright silver.

"I think that may be one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen," Ash said, breathless.

Misty agreed. She checked her watch. It was 18:03. They were on course. She hadn't eaten all day in excitement and sheer busyness. Her stomach felt like a black hole. The buffet dinner would be out until midnight. She took pride that her cruise offered 24 hour service. And right now, she would love to make use of her own world-class facilities and amenities.

Suddenly, the door opened and Sandy, the hotel director, popped her head in. "Misty, I have your table ready."

"Perfect timing, Sandy," Misty said. "Ash, Portsy, Pikachu, you hungry?"

"Aye aye, Captain," Ash said, enthusiastically.

"Pikachu!"

"Right, shall we?" Misty said. "Briny, Salty, I can trust you and the autopilot to take over?" She asked. The burly sailors, physically more like the pirates of the old days, nodded professionally. Ash, Portsy and Pikachu stood up to follow Misty to the dining hall.

* * *

Persian would have understood if Brock was just excited to get to his cabin, but it still didn't explain his reasons for running through the ship. Persian happily gambolled after him, until when Brock found his cabin he promptly shut Persian out with a slam of the door.

"Er, Brocko, mind if I join you in there? See, I'm tired after our little jog," Persian meowed outside the door.

There was no answer.

"Please?"

Still nothing.

"Fine…I'll go check out the buffet by myself," Persian sighed. Jessie and James had presumably gone to their cabin. It was nearby here. He would go find his cabin, and then check out theirs, respectively.

He was about to leave when Brock opened the door. "Sorry, I just…had a moment."

"You look strange, are you getting sick, Brocko?" Persian asked.

"No, I'm fine. Tell Jessie and James, Misty invited us to dinner, at around six. You can go and tell 'em." He said. Brock was fidgeting, he would hardly meet Persian's eyes.

"Fine, see you later then. What are you going to be doing in the mean time?"

"Just…exploring the ship." Then Brock walked off. He stopped at the end of the corridor. "Do you know where the hospital section of the ship would be?"

"Nope." Persian replied. "I just got here, like you, didn't I?" Then he narrowed his eyes. "I thought you said you weren't feeling sick…"

"Maybe a little nauseas."

"Do you want some meds, I brought some…"

"No – I – I'll see you at dinner." Brock vanished around the corner.

Persian frowned after him.

* * *

A loud horn blew somewhere distantly. Jessie's stateroom was beside James' and Persian's. Brock's was further down the passage. She was feeling a little anxious in the empty, foreign room. She left all her stuff in their bags, with the locks on, and sat on the bed looking around. It was a beautiful room, luxurious with an en suite bathroom and even a balcony. She had actually gone out onto it to let the rain batter her face and the storm electrify her senses. The ship was massive; she leaned over the balcony railing to have a good look down its side. She wasn't very familiar with maritime terminology, and felt at a loss for words to describe the sights she saw.

But what she did know was that the ocean stretched out to infinity, and beneath the heavy clouds it churned and twisted and frothed like something alive. She imagined the cool water, made rough and warm by the storm, she imagined the burning salt and the sheer force of the waves tossing her around. She felt the wind ripping through her hair, as it drove the ocean to madness. She imagined this, and then thought of the silence deep beneath the sea, all the way at the bottom where no wind, or waves or storm reached, where no light fell and very few creatures swam. She felt herself drift into this darkness in her mind, into the silence, into the deepness and felt…

There was a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and saw it was James.

"Hi, have you freshened up? Brock said we're having dinner with the twerps. Do you feel up to it?" James asked, looking as if he very much wanted to touch her on the shoulder but was restraining himself.

"I'll be fine," She said, in what she hoped was a confident voice. She wanted to go to this dinner for two reasons. The first was that she was tired of being so afraid; the second was that she felt that if she met the twerps she might regain some of her old self. After all, no one knew the old Jessie better (after James and Persian) than the twerps themselves. She also told herself that there was a very very small chance that Mortaguy would be on the ship. If she was safe anywhere – why, it had to be on a ship in the middle of the ocean!

"Do you mind if I change quickly?" She asked James.

"I thought it was the new fashion to go to dinner soaking wet."

She smirked at that, and went in to change. They had gone out shopping several times and she now had a few new clothes. All of them she treasured like the blue dress she had run away in. James had also bought her that dress. The clothes felt like armour. She put on a long sleeved, floor length dark red dress that James had chosen. It hung on her everywhere, although not as much as it would have when she had first arrived at James and Brock's doorstep. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was completely unrecognizable. She looked like a stick with a fancy rag hung on it. Her hair was limp as it hung by her ears, curiously desaturated and it was dull in the light. Her eyes were hollow, once they were the colour of a stormy sea, now they were just – dark blue.

She hated who she had become. How it had all happened. She hated that she hated herself. Although she loved the dress, although it was beautiful, she knew she couldn't wear it…not yet. She rifled through her clothes until she found the old blue dress. It was faded and way too small but Rosette had fixed up the tears and had cleaned out the dirt and stains. Jessie put it on. She possibly looked worse but she felt better. The dress was a charm, an amulet against prisons, fear and slavery. It represented freedom. She was still caged. She wasn't free yet, but she would be.

James frowned at her when she came out in the blue dress. "Jessie, that dress is…" He saw the look on her face. "…fine. Are you sure you want to wear it? I got you some nic-newer stuff?"

"For now…I'll wear this," She said. Slowly, he took her arm. She was grateful that he was so patient with her, he never moved fast around her, and was painfully gentle. It wasn't just that it was James, but it was because he was who he was that she knew she had made the right decision to find him and come back to him. He had always been the softer one between the two of them, he had always been the gentle one. She had seen it as weakness before it all happened, when they were younger, but now she saw it as strength. Great, great strength.

They walked through the exquisite ship to the dining hall. Jessie was in awe as they arrived. It was a huge amphitheatre in the centre of the ship. The dining hall hosted five themed restaurants. The restaurants were designed to look like golden baubles or bubbles hanging from the ceiling. Each restaurant was on a different level with a huge circular balcony that looked down into the centre of the dining hall where there was place for dancing or battling. Some richly garbed people were already waltzing around the dance floor to a live orchestra. There were several gilded staircases winding up to each restaurant. The middle one, _the Water Lily, _was supposedly where they would meet Brock and Persian. All the restaurants had water flower themed names: _the Lotus, the Water Hyacinth, Seagrass, and the Anemone. _

"Misty must be loaded…" James commented as they ascended the staircase to the _Water Lily_. The ornate patterns on the stairs were fish jumping from the sea, others depicted in, what appeared to be, lapis lazuli ocean scenes and mermaids.

Jessie nodded, her mouth slightly agape at the opulence.

At the top of the steps they were high above the ballroom. The ladies who were dancing there had chosen dresses that were perfect for spinning. From Jessie's perspectives, with every spin they became colourful circles. There must have been over a hundred people there. James recognized some politicians and famous trainers amongst the passengers.

They arrived at the restaurant, the entrance of which was designed like a massive white water lily. Jessie had a closer look at it and saw that it was mosaicked with some pearlescent white enamel. She sighed, completely overwhelmed by the prettiness. They entered through the centre of the flower. They were immediately attended by a maître d', who seemed to know who they were before James had even said they were going to the Captain's table.

They were lead through a glassy, gilded, pearled and yet somehow incredibly tasteful restaurant, finally to a private room at the very top that overlooked the rest of the diners. Persian, Pikachu (Jessie nearly gaped) and the twerps were already seated, with a portly man who they found out was called Portsy. Brock wasn't there yet. Persian and James exchanged glances; he raised his eyes at Jessie's dress. James shrugged.

"Ah, Jessie, James you made it," Misty said, smiling politely and gesturing for them to make themselves at home. Before they could do anything further, two attendants helped them to their seats and covered them with embroidered napkins.

"My name is Jean Pierre," the right one said to Jessie.

"My name is Jean Luc," said the left one to James.

"Tonight we'll be your waitors," they said in unison.

"What would you like to drink, Madam?"

"Here are the menus for tonight, sir."

"Please ask us for anything you need," they finished off, again in unison. Bewildered, Jessie was speechless. James seemed a little more comfortable in this environment. After all, Brock (and thus James) must've attended hundreds of fancy places like these. He glanced at her, smiling.

"I'll have the champagne," He said. Jean Luc nodded and immediately scooped the bottle from its bucket. He held the bottle in a particular manner, with his thumb in the hollow at the bottom and his fingers cupping it on its lower horizontal side.

She didn't know what to choose and so said, "Me too…please." With a flourish, Jean Luc filled her glass too with golden sparkling liquid.

"The menus are set," Misty explained. "It's a seven course meal, so please just sit back and enjoy the experience."

Jessie studied each face at the table curiously. The Pikachu had not changed. He was still a red cheeked mouse, as precocious as ever, always sticking close beside his trainer. Jessie could remember desiring the mouse to the point of obsession, once she would have been plotting to steal and capture him to give him the boss. She looked at him and wondered what was so special about him to have driven James, Meowth and herself to complete madness.

They were served the first course. It was a tiny morsel in the centre of a square white plate. A Pecha flavoured pate of Krookodile, apparently, with a sprig of Arbok venom infused Oran. Everybody picked up the knives and forks at the outermost part of the setting, and began eating in a composed and delicate manner. It was absolutely delicious. A bite of sweet and acidic flavours that somehow blended in the mouth.

That was when Brock walked in. He looked particularly flustered, was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing earlier. He sat down, apologizing for his lateness, but then lapsed into near uncommunicative silence. Misty was talking so much she hardly noticed his distraction, and Ash was also so excited to see Brock that there was not much for the brawny rapper to do but smile at them.

Jessie watched Ash, the original Twerp, as he told Brock, surprisingly humbly, about his status as recent champion of the Kalos league. She had heard he was the World Champion, not just for Kanto. He had won all the leagues across the six continents and some of the islands. He was the youngest Champion in history, and it showed in his face. He still looked a bit like a little boy, despite his attempts to grow facial hair. His eyes had a way of travelling towards the Twerpette, she noticed. They would linger on her, even if she wasn't talking and just listening, and then they would dart away as if guilty to be watching. Jessie was downright shocked that nothing had happened between them after all this time. In a way she had idolized the kid back in the day and even now. He was earnest and despite occasional foolishness he was _good_, driven by some strange purity that she admired even today. He would overcome any obstacle through sheer faith. Except whatever was stopping him from taking the Twerpette in his arms and loving her…

The waiters swiftly took away the first course, and replaced it with an even tinier morsel, which Jessie learned was a pallet cleanser. It was a sharp Nomel sorbet – also delicious.

Then they quickly had the second course out as they changed everyone's drink to match. Jessie was bewildered. The second course was a soup. It was a very light and fragrant, and although they trotted out the ingredients she couldn't quite recall what they were. She had been slightly distracted by the Twerpette.

The Twerpette had become quite beautiful. She looked confident and mature, but with a hint of sadness in her face. Jessie had heard from Brock that she had recently broken off an engagement – she didn't recall to who. Perhaps that was why the Twerp looked like a pining growlithe puppy. Unfortunately, the Twerpette's eyes always seemed to find Jessie's across the table. Jessie knew she was assessing her short, unimpressive hair, her faded dress, and her bony arm resting on the edge of the table. She saw her deep eyes, and knew instantly that Jessie was broken, not the woman who used to shout and beat and demand. Jessie looked away, looked down at her food and didn't look up again – until there was an interruption in the flow of conversation. The maître d' had brought another person into the room.

Jessie raised her eyes. Standing in the doorway, looking slightly superior, was a slender man with dark eyes and dark brown hair.

"Rudy, what are you doing here?" Misty said, in a slightly chilly voice.

"I came to see you, Misty," Rudy answered. "Clearly you're not pleased to see me."

Rudy Trovita! That was the fiancee's name, Jessie recalled. Her face flushed with embarrassment for Misty. She glanced at Ash. His brow was furrowed deeply. The Pikachu had one tiny paw on his brown arm.

Misty's face was bright red. She put her napkin on the table. "Excuse me everyone. Ash, Brock, sorry…" She left the table, and pulled the man by the arm out of the room. There was a vacuum after she left, an uncomfortable silence.

"Er…so where were we? Ash, your training? How is it going? Misty tells me you want to go to Mt. Silver…" said Brock.

Ash seemed a bit distracted. "Um…yeah, Pikachu and I feel we've hit a bit of a wall with the training…"

"Pi pi pikachu…"

"I think we can all acknowledge that that was just downright awkward," Persian muttered to Jessie from her right side.

"Persian…" James hissed from her left.

"Poor Misty…" Jessie acknowledged.

"…so we've already applied for a permit to go to Mt. Silver. We should receive it fairly quickly with our Champion status…It's mainly the inner caverns that are particularly dangerous. There's a fairly complex waterfall, river system inside and the tide can be quite rough…but I'm taking with a core team that should easily handle it, in fact, I'm considering…" Ash continued talking, but Jessie noticed that he kept glancing towards the door, behind which Misty must be with her ex fiancée.

They were having a fairly long conversation by any standard.

"Ash, don't you think it's a bit dangerous going out there on your own, I know you'll have your Pokemon with you but what about your mom, Misty, you'll be gone for a few months at least?" Brock asked. "If anything happens to you, you'll have no way of contacting them and vice versa…"

Ash seemed to consider this for a while. Jessie half wondered if he didn't want to be contacted. "If anything happens to me, Charizard will fly and get help. Simple."

"What if he's not quick enough?" Brock countered.

"Brock, you and I have been through all kinds of dangers. I'm still here, aren't I?" Ash said, and he sounded slightly weary this time. He was slumped slightly in his chair. They had brought the third course – another palette cleanser – but he looked like he had somewhat lost his appetite.

Ash suddenly turned to her. "Team Roc-Jessie, you're so quiet compared to what I remember."

James stiffened beside her.

"People can change…" She answered quietly.

"But you're so different. Your hair, your clothes, your whole personality. What happened to you these past few years?" Ash asked, blindly walking into a minefield.

"She doesn't need to answer," James said, almost sternly.

"You've changed too, James, you're not…you're more…you're different too." Ash was struggling to put into words exactly how James had changed. Jessie imagined he was going to use the words "not feminine" and "more masculine" to describe the new James.

Ash then turned to Persian. "I suppose you look the most different but maybe you've changed least of all. You still talk too much." It was true; Persian had been making witty remarks the entire night while Jessie observed.

"Where did you guys disappear to these past years anyway? One day I woke up and I could go to the grocery store without being ambushed by you three. Finally, Pikachu could feel free to be in public without fear of capture." Ash and Pikachu exchanged knowing glances.

"Pikachu…"

"Yeah, those were strange times for us," Ash agreed. "He had to go to a psychologist." Ash explained to those who weren't familiar with Pikachu's lexicon.

"Oh," said James as if suddenly enlightened.

"Well, James worked as my security for awhile. Maybe that's where he learned to toughen up. Persian was a street fighter for some time, that's how he got so strong, where he got all those scars and his potty mouth. And Jessie…well, if she wants she can tell you," Brock explained to Ash, since it was clear the Rockets were not going to.

"Well summarised, Brocko, that's my life in a nutshell…" Persian said sarcastically.

"That's how it was though!" Brock retorted.

"Maybe left out a few nuances here and there, don't ya think?" Persian replied.

"Oh yeah, he got a few tattoos, too," Brock said, slapping his head to punish himself for his forgetfulness.

"Thank you," Persian said exasperated. "Wanna see 'em?" He asked Ash and Pikachu.

"Pika…"

Jessie was bewildered as Persian heavily put his paw on the table and showed them, beneath the fur, there actually was a tattoo that said, circumscribed by a heart "I love Mom." There was apparently another one somewhere else on his body, but just as he was hoisting his tail onto the table, Misty re-entered the private room. She was alone. Ash looked relieved.

She sat down again, looking mildly embarrassed but mostly angry. The next course was being served, an elaborate salad. Before anyone could ask, she announced, "I don't want to talk about it." Anyone who had previously wanted to ask did not.

The conversation was slightly stilted after that. Portsy, Misty's first mate, took over and they mostly discussed the ship, its architecture and design after that. There were many awkward looks being thrown around. Finally, just before dessert, Jessie excused herself to get some fresh air. The tension was far too thick in the room.

She wandered out of the private room, deciding she would go to the _Water Lily's _balcony that overlooked the dance floor. There was something mesmerising about the way the women twirled in their dresses. Jessie passed through the main section of the restaurant. There were many well dressed people eating there, also being served to a set menu. She saw the Nomel pallet cleanser being served to one table. There was a little girl sitting there amongst the adults. She looked very familiar, with a round cherub face, and blond corkscrew curls. Jessie thought she looked like Dolly, Mortaguy's daughter. Almost identical. Jessie's heart began to beat in her chest. She did not want to because now her stomach was starting to clench, her eyes wandered towards the dark man beside the girl. He looked like he had always looked. His thin, aristocratic face, dark from years of playing sports in the sun, salt and pepper hair especially at the temples. The cruel set of the lips, the small dark eyes, the lined face from sun and age. The impeccable suit, probably pressed by some unwilling girl slave. The hairy hands, probably warm from beating some poor slave girl somewhere. The white flash of predator's teeth – he probably called it a smile.

If the horror wasn't sufficient, she saw one more hated face. Brone Redman. His bright red hair, she was surprised it wasn't the first thing she saw. She knew he had sharp eyes - if he saw her!

She took a step back, slowed her breathing. To run now…she would be caught. They had not yet seen her. She turned around casually and walked out of the _Water Lily. _She did not go back to the Captain's private dining room. Nor did she stop to speak to the maître d' who bid her goodnight. She couldn't remember running, half tripping down the stairs, or going past the dancers without a second glance, she didn't remember the long trip down the passage where her shoe came off and was left there. She didn't remember opening her room, locking the door, releasing the Mightyena and hiding under the covers. She didn't feel safe. She didn't feel safe.

She_ never_ would.

* * *

**A/N: **So this has become the obligatory beg for reviews section. But don't make me beg, it's not a pretty sight for anyone, just write one ;) indulge me :D We're finally onto Act II of Tragic Kingdom. The story will definitely speed up after this. Secrets will be revealed. Stories unravelled. Fears confronted…so prepare for trouble!


	7. Act II: Part Two

**A/N: **I had to split this chapter into 3 parts this time because it was even longer than the previous chapter! That means I have two completed updates ready ;) Please enjoy.

* * *

**Tragic Kingdom: Act II**

** Chapter 6: Going Under**

I'm saddened by the peonies before the steps, so red,

As evening came I found that only two remained.

Once morning's winds have blown, they surely won't survive,

At night I gaze by lamplight, to cherish the fading red.

* * *

Jessie had locked herself up in her cabin, refusing to open the door for anyone including James. She had released the guard Mightyena that James had bought for her, and he stood by the door protectively. James knocked on the door desperately again, and was answered only by growling.

"Jessie, please, open the door, what's wrong?" James said, putting his ear against the door to hear her response. She stared at the door, not trusting herself to answer. He might convince her to open for him.

"Jessie…oh my God…did you see him? Is he on this ship? Jessie open the door now."

The sheer command in his voice made her open the door. She nodded wordlessly. He stepped in, closing the door behind him. His expression was so fierce she had never seen the like of it before. He grabbed her and held her, tightly.

"I will never let him hurt you again. Never." James said into her neck. She believed him. And it scared her because -

"You have to promise me you won't go after him, James," She said.

"Jessie, I have to, he's scum," James said, through gritted teeth.

"No, James, listen, promise you won't?" She said, holding him firmly. He was surprised at her force. She knew that if he did go after Mortaguy he'd either get hurt or arrested, and she knew now she couldn't be parted from him or see him in pain.

He stared at her hard. "Do you really want that? You want him to walk free, unpunished?"

"No, I want him to burn in hell, but even more than that I want you to be safe. If you go anywhere near him you won't be."

"I'm stronger than you think," James said.

"I know," She said, reaching up very timidly to touch his face. He leaned his cheek into her palm. "But please don't do anything. For me. He's not worth it."

James nodded, his eyes closed.

Jessie had one more thing to say to him, she looked up at him with big blue eyes. "I don't know…if I can stay alone tonight. Could you stay with me?"

"Of course," James said.

"Just in case…" Jessie murmured.

They went into the room.

James ordered the Mightyena to sleep by the door, and he released his Arcanine, Growly, for extra measure. The two dogs sat attentively and even Jessie felt nothing would get into this room easily. She smiled gratefully at James.

When she was ready for bed, she got under the covers. Soft covers, a real bed. It was still so unbelievable to her. James hadn't brought anything with him when he'd come to the room. He slept with his shirt off.

She could feel James' body heat radiating off him. She could hear his breathing. He kept respectfully to his side of the mattress. She rolled over so she could look at him. His eyes were closed, he was already half-asleep. His hand was lying between them, as if he were reaching out for her. Her heart fluttering, she slowly, very slowly reached out her own hand to touch his. As if he were aware of her terror, her suspicion, her fragility he didn't immediately clutch her back. Then slowly and gently, his fingers curled around her own.

With his hand in hers, Jessie felt safe. After that, she fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Misty went to Ash's cabin. It was the middle of the night. She hoped he would be awake. He was. He stood aside for her to come in, expressionless.

"What the fuck was he thinking coming onto the ship? Coming into my personal dining room to harass me!" Misty asked furiously, and then flumped down hard on Ash's bed. Pikachu did not even twitch at the sound, he continued sleeping – long used to the sound of Misty's voice.

"What did he say?" Ash asked.

"He wants me back," Misty said in the most depressed way possible.

"And?"

"And what?" Misty snapped.

"Do you want him back?" Ash asked. Misty was surprised to hear a slight note of vulnerability in his voice.

"No." She said with finality. "Not even a little."

"But you wanted to marry him…I don't understand. Why did you break off the engagement?" He was staring at her with those big brown eyes, as if he was searching for something.

Misty bit her lip. "Ash…"

"Misty…" They both sat there in the room that felt too full with emotion. With the unsaid.

Nobody knew why. Or perhaps they did. But she had no idea what Ash was thinking. He had no idea what _she_ was thinking.

"I don't know," Misty said finally. It wasn't even close to the truth.

Ash stared at her, as if waiting for something more. "Okay." He said, and sat back. He hadn't even realized he had been leaning forward so intently.

"I'm sorry I came here, Ash…I don't know…sorry if I woke you…" Misty mumbled, looking very upset but about what Ash was not sure. If she loved Rudy, and he wanted to be with her, she wouldn't look upset. If she didn't love him and he wanted to be with her, she wouldn't look upset either because it wouldn't matter to her. So why was she in his room crying unless she did love Rudy and he didn't want to be with her? Or…? He wished she would just tell him why she was…crying?

He pulled her into a hug, refusing to let her leave even though she looked as if she very much would like to. He knew this was the right thing to do, to hold her, because she grabbed him back fiercely and sniffed into his shoulder. She was already done crying, she didn't cry much, his Misty. His Misty…

Before he knew it, he was pulling her even closer, onto his lap. He couldn't hold her tight enough, and she, too, was clinging to him. Her legs were over his. Her arms were around his neck. Her chest was pressed against his chest. He could feel her heart beating between them. He could feel his own heart beating, echoing out to hers. Why couldn't she feel it?

They must have fallen asleep like that, her face beside his. Her nose nearly touching his. Her lips so tantalizingly close.

But when he woke up.

She was gone.

* * *

His eyes stared into infinity, reflected blue by the endless ocean that stretched to the horizon and beyond. His chest felt like it had been shattered and picked apart, as if something had smashed right through it. All that was left now was nothing. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to concentrate on fighting off the rising tide of anxiety that would drown him. He closed his eyes, and in the flash of darkness he saw her. She was in the rain again. He saw her lily-white face, powdery rose skin, those soft blue eyes, and the gentle curl of her hair. He was filled with great joy and sorrow all at once – it was too much for one person to handle. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears and to keep her there before him.

Brock rolled over in bed, to face the portholes that just let in the morning light. His vision tilted with the rolling of the ship. He had possibly never felt worse in his life. He had thought he lost her. He had thought she was gone forever. He possibly would have been happier if this was true, because it would mean he wouldn't be faced with the thought of her being near him, but not being with him. He was in hell. He had searched for years, he had waited for years, and she had remained elusively out of reach and out of sight. He could only hear her sometimes in the beat of his music, or sometimes in the thrumming bass, but when the song ended she was gone again.

He wondered if she had heard his songs, if she had missed him, if she had seen him too and had ignored him, glanced over him like any water droplet in the huge ocean. Did he mean absolutely nothing to her? He rolled over again. Or perhaps she too had waited all these years, trapped by her family, restrained from ever returning to him but wishing with every fiber of her being that they could be together. He growled and buried his head in his pillow. Then he threw off his sheets and got up. He had to know.

* * *

It was too early in the morning.

Persian was waiting outside Brock's cabin. The rapper had been looking a little off the night before and Persian was hoping to cheer him up by showing him the buffet breakfast on offer, as well as introduce him to the cabaret singers that would be performing every night for the passengers' entertainment. Persian believed that they might be willing to give Brock a solo performance.

However, before the creamy coated cat could catch his bearings, Brock barreled out of the cabin door, half dressed and looking far too preoccupied to be stopped. "Hey Brock, where's the fire?" Persian cried but his call went unanswered as the man abruptly turned into the next corridor and vanished. Brock had not noticed him at all. Persian frowned, displeased. He would probably be late for breakfast this morning because of this. _What the hell is that guy up to? _They, whoever they were, often said curiosity killed the cat, but they also said that cats had nine lives. Persian decided he still had about eight left if he followed Brock, and that was more than enough for him. He padded quickly down the corridor, putting his nose to the ground to follow Brock's scent. It was lucky the man had not had time to shower that morning, it made Persian's job a lot easier.

The trail led deep into the heart of the ship, all the way to the medical wing. Persian felt slightly apprehensive at that. Was Brock ill? As he approached he could hear raised voices. He pricked his ears up. One of the voices was definitely Brock's. The other was a woman's. He crept closer, keeping in the shadows of the rocking ship. He peered his head through the doorway and nearly gaped at what he saw. Brock was standing; fists clenched, veins in stark relief on his neck, teeth gritted as he bit out angry words to a tall matronly Joy who seemed equally angry. Persian had never seen a Joy who looked like this one. She looked aged, unlike all the other fresh faced Joys that Persian had seen. Her hair was not soft, curled and bobbed, but severely pulled back into a tight bun. She stood rigidly, as if her spine were made of the straightest steel, and her eyes were sharp and cold like diamonds.

"I know she's here. I'll ask you one more time, let me see her," Brock said angrily.

"And I'll tell you one more time: no. You have no business with her. None at all,"

There was now a bevy of Joys watching in terror. One of them disappeared, and came back with a phone.

The Head Joy stepped so close to Brock she was almost chest to chest with him. She may have been a head shorter than him, but her rage easily made her equal to him in intimidation.

"You are nothing to her."

"She means everything to me," Brock growled back. Persian had never ever seen him more angry. "Who do you think you are to stand in my way? You have no right."

"And you do?" The Joy replied, her face contorted in fury. From this Persian deduced she had terrible bedside manner. "Have you ever considered…she _doesn't_ want to see you?"

"You're lying!" Brock said, but Persian could see the anguish in his face at her words. Who were they talking about?

"I am not lying, Brock Stone. _You are nothing to her_." The Joy said coldly.

Persian was nearly trodden on by the suddenly appearing Misty, her first mate, Portsy, in tow. She stopped in the doorway, took stock of the scene and dropped her jaw.

Brock lifted his hand, clenched within it was a pokeball. Persian gasped.

"I'm her—" Brock began, in a hoarse yell.

"We got a call –Brock? What's going on here?" Misty interrupted. She stepped right into the room and between the combatants. There was a moment of frozen suspense, where Persian had no idea how it would all end.

Brock stared stonily at the Joy, right over Misty's head. Persian was surprised to see her turn back and give the Head Joy an icy glare of her own. She took a breath and then said. "Enough."

Misty touched his chest. "Brock, it's not worth it. Calm down." She indicated subtly to Portsy, who immediately went to the Head Joy and began ushering her away. As the Joy left the room, followed by the other Joys and Portsy, she gave Brock one final glance. He did not wither beneath it, and watched her leave.

Misty grabbed Brock's arm and dragged him from the room. Once outside she pushed him sharply against the wall. She looked furious. Portsy's eyes bulged. Persian's narrowed. Then to both their surprises, Misty pulled Brock into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Brock."

He was stiff in her arms, obviously still angry. Misty continued speaking, "She's horrible, absolutely horrible. I know that it's hard but you have to stay away from them. They're…not like us, the Joys. They have their own ways. I honestly thought you'd mo-"

"Moved on?" Brock said in a low voice, his eyes had been lowered but now he lifted them to stare at Misty. "How could you possibly think that? I have never stopped thinking about her, even after all these years. But you wouldn't know that, would you?"

Misty dropped her arms, her face pale. "I regret it, I regret it everyday too, that we lost you. But I also regret letting you go with her to begin with. I knew it wouldn't end well. And it hasn't. Because even if you were with her right now, it wouldn't work because of people like that!" Misty pointed her arm towards the door where the Joys had exited through.

Brock turned away from her.

"I'm saying this because I care. And I'm going to say this as your friend and the captain of this ship: stay away from the Joys. Especially _her_." Misty said.

"And if I don't?" Brock retorted. Persian couldn't see his face.

Misty sighed. She looked pained. "I'll be forced to arrest you. She could press charges."

Brock continued to face away from her. "I'm sorry, Misty, I don't want to cause you trouble on your ship, on your first voyage. But…you don't even know how hard it's been."

"I don't. But I'm here now." Misty said earnestly. She sounded sincere, she seemed to care, but Persian had the distinct feeling that Brock harbored some resentment towards her.

"Ever thought youse might be too late?" Persian muttered from Brock's side. Both Brock and Misty looked down at him sharply. That was when Persian noticed she looked as if she had just been pulled out of bed. She had not had time to brush her hair, or wipe the sleep from her eyes. And those were last night's clothes…Persian's eyes narrowed.

"Persian," Brock said and then sighed. "Let's leave it at that. I'm going back to my room. Bye, Misty. Portsy." Brock left, Persian followed. Neither looked back.

"What was that all about?" He hissed at Brock as they walked. "Are youse crazy, Brocko?"

"Probably," Brock said, he was fumbling with the top button of his shirt. And then rubbing his thumb against his index finger. As Persian observed him he was a man full of frenetic energy.

"Gonna tell me anymowr than that?" Persian asked.

They arrived at Brock's door. "Probably not." The man slipped into the door and attempted to close it before Persian could follow him. The cat was too fast, and caught the door before it closed. They shared an intense glance. "Don't block me out, Brock."

It was a testament to the enduring soft heartedness of the man that even in his pain he would not block anyone out. He left the door ajar.

Persian went in.

It was clear that there were things beneath the surface that he was not aware of. Almost everyone in the group was behaving strangely, or acting along lines Persian could not track. Jessie and James had vanished since last night. They had not been down to breakfast. He had seen Misty's ex fiancée sniffing around the dining hall when he'd gone to fetch food for himself and Brock. He knew Misty had not slept in her bed last night, and he knew from observation that Ash was hopelessly in love with her. Where would the lines end? Finally, he knew that there was a whole nest of secrets that Brock had not filled him in on, the man had eaten his food in silence when they had returned to the cabin, Persian was forced to lie on the floor pondering. He did have enough clues however to start his own investigation. It all came back to the Joys. They were the key.

Persian looked up at Brock.

Brock was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. He had turned on his music, rap, but it was a little too loud to be comfortable. Persian resisted the urge to cover his ears. He looked around the room and saw that it was a mess. It was the first time he had seen the room since they'd boarded. It was messy. That was the first clue. Brock was usually immaculately tired. He could even be described to have an obsessive love for cleaning.

"Brock, are you alright?" Persian asked, as his claws brushed at an abandoned shirt on the floor. He was speaking loudly to compete with the music.

"No," Brock said, his voice muffled, his head still in his hands.

"What's going on? What happened between you and the Joys?" Persian asked, moving close to Brock, and resting a paw on his knee, partially to comfort the man and partially so he could actually hear him over the blear of the music. Brock was shivering. Persian waited for an answer, and was surprised when Brock gripped his paw and held it.

He continued to be silent, waiting.

Then he heard Brock's voice, quiet, muffled. He spoke slowly, almost mechanically. Persian just listened. He let Brock fill the silence.

"It all happened a couple of years ago. Five years and six months to be exact. I could tell you the weeks, days, hours, minutes if I have to. I remember everything about this moment. I was still travelling around with Ash and Misty just before Ash won the league and Misty went back to her Gym. I was at a pokemon centre chatting to Nurse Joy. She was doing administration work at the front desk. Just by the way her hand gripped the pencil I could tell there was something special about this Joy I could feel it. I know you say I say that about all the Joys I meet. –Yes, and the Jennies but I know that this one was special because of the way my heart beat. The way my heartstrings reached out to her when she looked at me. She knew me pretty well since we'd been in town awhile now. When she saw me she smiled with familiarity."

* * *

**To Be Continued. A/N: **Brock's story is pretty long so I cut it off here in the opening paragraph. But all will be revealed in the next chapter…or not? :) Reviews would be wonderful! ;)


	8. Act II: Part Three

**A/N: **I didn't include a quote/poem for this chapter because it's basically a continuation of the last chapter. It takes off immediately from where the last chapter ended. A certain reviewer was worried I wouldn't continue with Brock's story, but here it is :)

* * *

**Tragic Kingdom: Act II**

**Chapter 7: Light in the Depths**

"Evening." I said, pulling my pokeballs off my belt. My pokemon needed a checkup.

"Good evening." She said. Her voice…still can't find words to describe it. She took my pokemon and sent them through the machine. "Did you and your friends do anything interesting today?"

"Just training as usual. Ash is a bit obsessive when it comes to pokemon." I said.

"Aren't all trainers?" She replied. She was obviously busy with her paperwork because she didn't wait around for me to say something else like she usually did. She sat down and continued with her admin.

I nodded. I looked around for something to say. Usually I have a thousand one-liners and the perfect delivery but I felt a little nervous around her. Then I noticed she had earphones in her ears. Perfect, Brock, I thought, ask her what she's listening to!

"What are you listening to, Joy? A love song maybe?" I asked. I had to admit that my style was flawless, the delivery was smooth and my voice was a sexy baritone. The ladies swoon at my feet!

Nurse Joy looked up coyly, obviously charmed by my voice. Her eyes were such a rich shade of blue I felt the clouds in my heart clearing to make way for this beautiful color. Her hair so lustrous a shade of red reminded me of the most delicate of azalea blossoms. I wanted to lift a lock of it and trail it along my cheek to feel if it was as soft as a flower petal. She closed her eyes. Dark lashes against pale skin…

"Brock? Are you listening to me…?" She asked, and I could only focus on her lips. A coral colour like that of a Corsola bursting from the ocean. If only I could kiss…Focus Brock focus! She's speaking! And if her words are half as beautiful as her face…

"I'm not that into ballads. It's rap. Listen." She held out an earphone. I took it feeling a little surprised. Rap music and Nurse Joy didn't really mix in my eyes. But somehow I enjoyed this interesting quirk in her musical taste. The beat of the song could already be heard before I'd put the earphone in my ear. It was some heavy crunk.

Rap wasn't usually to my taste but the more I listened to it the more I could feel her in the music. I started to see something else to it. The music I'd always thought rough and coarse to the ears suddenly made sense to me.

The beat was constant that was the first thing that made me think of her. Because my love was constant like that beat. If she would have me, then every morning I would kiss her, constant, like this beat. Every time she looked at me, enveloping me in the sea of her eyes so that I drowned in it I would take her in my arms, holding her like the lifebuoy that she was. Always. Constant. Like this beat.

The melody was smooth, like jazz, like her skin, like the curve of her arm and the curl of her lip when she smiled. My love was smooth. There was no roughness to it. When I touched her it would be softly, because beauty such as this is to be revered. When I spoke to her it would be effortlessly, my voice wouldn't tremble because she was there to steady it.

The vocals were passionate. They were quick footed, heavy and also light like an electrical current, flickering varyingly but with a destination, with instinct. A wayward strand of hair fell into her face. Like this current, instinctually, my hand went to this unruly lock. Those eyes met mine. Mingled shock and tenderness within them. She raised a hand to catch mine but she paused. She seemed to be holding her breath. I pushed the hair behind her ears.

Then I handed her back the earphones. "I like it." I smiled then left.

She stared at me as I walked away. My own heart was pounding with anxiety and with love. I noticed she had dropped what she had been doing. I noticed that the hand that she had raised to stop mine was still poised in the air, she hadn't dropped it yet.

Then as I stepped outside the Centre she smiled. Nay, She chuckled and span on the spot, hands clutched to her chest.

I knew right then that I had found her. My love. The one.

* * *

Persian was shocked as Brock told him the story. He remembered now Brock's reaction when they had seen the Joys boarding the ship before departure. He could feel the man shuddering, as his emotions, so long kept inside, found freedom.

"It gets worse, do you really want to hear it?" He whispered.

Persian shrugged, uncomfortable but knowing he had to help Brock. "I hate the sad parts, I hate to cry but…"

"It's not sad. Not yet. Maybe you'll cry but not because you're sad," He said quietly, still buried in her shoulder.

"Tell me," Persian said.

* * *

I started returning to the Centre everyday. Ash and Misty wanted to leave long ago but I kept on making excuses not to leave. Ash was getting impatient and was starting to irritate Misty. She was complaining about him to me at every chance she got but I wasn't going to be swayed. I would only leave when I had made sure that Joy loved me as much as I loved her.

I had to make excuses about why I was always at the centre as well. I'm sure Nurse Joy knew why I was always there but she pretended to be oblivious. She greeted me with a smile whenever she saw me.

We would listen to her music, one earphone for each of us. The unimaginable intimacy, we would be inches apart from each other, so much so I could smell her perfume. A soft scent, never overpowering. I found myself intoxicated. Slowly I was unravelling. I was melting into her hands.

I was lost in a strange dream. Sweet scents and sounds and the rhythmic beat of our hearts, I was walking through dark corridors but I didn't mind because she had my hand and she was guiding me. Smiling, and leading me forwards. I woke up one morning and I knew that I had to tell her how I felt.

I didn't know it then, I was only seventeen, I was young and in love, I just didn't know that that day was the beginning of the end of my life as I knew it. Back then my world was pokemon, adventure and traveling with my best friends. That was everything. But as I got out of bed that morning, feet planted on the cold wood floor, and sunlight streaming through my window something changed.

Jittery, I got washed and dressed. Ash, Pikachu and Misty were waiting for me in the dining hall of the Pokemon Centre. I still remember the scene, how it was just before it all ended, they were deep in conversations, leaning towards each other conspiratorially. Pikachu stood on the table, watching them with a thoughtful expression. Sometimes I think that mouse is smarter than most of the humans I know…Ash and Misty abruptly stopped talking when I came closer. Typical Ash and Misty. They have no tact.

Without any ceremony or sentiment Misty said, I kid you not, "Brock we're tired of this. Me and Ash have discussed it and we've decided-"

"You mean _you _decided!" Ash interrupted, arms crossed. So they couldn't even agree without disagreeing…

Misty put her hands on her hips. "Ash, just moments ago you said you agreed with me. Don't start this debate with me now, you were nodding to everything I said before Brock came. No don't even try to explain yourself, I don't want to hear it…"

They carried on in this manner while I patiently waited to hear what exactly they wanted to tell me. My attention started to drift, as their fights were commonplace in my life, I had by that time lost interest in the nuances of them. Judging by his exasperated expression, so had Pikachu.

Over the heads of the breakfasting trainers I spotted Joy. She had this expression on her face, her eyes were blazing with energy. When she saw me she made a beeline towards me. My heart started hammering away in my chest. I felt like some lovesick school girl, getting flustered when her crush merely glances at her.

Joy walked past the bickering Ash and Misty, she didn't even glance at them, even though they were starting to make a scene.

"Brock, you won't believe what I have!" She said, in her soft but excited voice. I could barely hear what she said, because of the aforementioned idiots as they began to speak in escalated tones. But I like to believe that Joy and I don't need to speak out loud to understand each other, or to communicate. I looked at her expectantly, hoping she would see the love in my eyes. Hoping that she would ignore the fact that I hung out with degenerates.

* * *

Persian snorted, despite himself.

* * *

"What is it?" I said, pulling her to one side as Ash and Misty began throwing food. She glanced at them worriedly. For some reason it pained me to have her look away. I couldn't bare it. Gently, I lifted my hand and guided her chin back so that she looked at me again. Her wide blue eyes were staring. Her lips were slightly parted in surprise.

"I like it when you look at me." I wanted to add 'Only me' but I was afraid I would frighten her away. She was like a tiny flower bud in my hands, so easily the wind could carry her away…

She blushed. "Brock, I…" A strip of bacon flew passed her head at that moment, distracting us both. Joy's eyes followed the bacon's flight path as it soared through the air and hit a dining trainer on the side of the head while I looked at its source: who else but Ash and Misty?

"Look, this is too crazy, let's meet later, okay?"

"Brock, wai-when?"

"Sunset, outside the PokeCentre?"

She nodded, and smiled. I was reluctant to return the mayhem that were my friends, but I did. My stomach was fluttering as if it were filled with a swarm of Butterfree.

Later, two youths appeared outside the PokeCentre just as the sun was setting. Like thieves, we stole away into the shadows, hand in hand. She wasn't supposed to leave her post; she was only an apprentice nurse and she would be in trouble if she were caught. I didn't want her to get in trouble but I couldn't resist taking her out. I'd begun to know the city pretty well from Ash, Misty and I's extended stay. So I knew all of the nicest places to take someone you really really liked.

"Where are we going, Brock?" Joy asked, as we walked through street after street, closer and closer to the edge of the city. She was a pace behind me, looking small and adorable with her blue eyes so wide, and her hair slightly disheveled.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." I said, and we were. We turned one more corner, and then before us, like heaven on earth, was the ocean. Expansive and blue the ocean stretched out to the horizon, a glowing orange sunset burnt the waves gold, cauliflower clouds bloomed in the sky, pink, yellow and purple. I turned my head to check Joy's reaction. Her eyes were sparkling, a faint blush coming to her cheeks. I couldn't help but smile.

In silence we walked to the shore, side by side, wind blowing our hair back. We were standing right in the waves, holding hands, I was smiling but when I looked at Joy I saw she was crying. Like little globules of molten fire her tears fell behind us, illuminated by the sunset. She noticed I could see her crying, and lifted a hand to brush the tears away.

"I'm sorry. I'm not sad, I…" She said, hastily drying her face with her apron.

"It's okay." I smiled, and pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around me, and I really felt how tiny she was, how vulnerable. I think it was then that I really and truly fell in love with her. I couldn't imagine the past, the present or the future. I could only see her.

Later as we sat on the shore, in the semi-darkness of evening, it was getting chilly and our clothes were kind of wet so I draped my jacket over Joy. I couldn't resist putting my arm around her either. She leaned against me, warm, like my own little heater. We sat like that, huddled together for warmth.

"I never got the chance to tell you what I wanted to tell you." Joy eventually whispered. "I forgot because of that ridiculous food fight..."

"You can tell me now." I whispered back.

She smiled softly. "I couldn't believe it when I found it. It was just lying there, priced so low." She looked at me with smiling blue eyes, and then reached into her apron. It was a small diskette she pulled out. I could guess what it was before she handed it to me.

"Joy," I gasped. "This is the rarest recording of Bandit Poser's underground concert. Some people search their whole lives for this disk. Where did you find it?"

She shrugged. "At a sale at the PokeMart."

"You're kidding."

She shook her head, beaming. "It was like fate." She pulled another device out of her apron. "I've already loaded it onto my mp3..."

I smiled as she handed me an earphone. The ocean breeze had picked up again, whipping our hair about. We moved closer together, smiling as our noses touched. The backlight from her mp3 gave her face a soft green glow.

Just before pressing 'play' she whispered. " You know, Brock, I really like you."

My heart began fluttering like a butterfree's wings. Like a geodude in an avalanche I was falling. I was momentarily stunned by her, and by her words. She blinked expectantly and I couldn't deny her. I couldn't deny myself. I couldn't, I leaned forwards, it was instinctive. She closed her eyes. And just before our lips touched I whispered back. "I really like you too."

I never imagined the most perfect moment in my life to have Bandit Poser as the soundtrack but everything with Joy was unique and strange and special. The sun finally set in the background. And we were drenched in darkness, still together, I was sure, forever.

* * *

Persian was smiling at this point. It was hard not to. It was so beautiful. Brock lifted his head, and caught sight of his face. His own was streaked with tears. They both smirked at each other, half laughing.

"And so? What happens next?" Persian asked. "I thought you said this was the sad part."

"Well, it's a long story, we're still getting there." Brock said.

"The suspense is killing me." The cat growled.

"What happens next is…the best part I suppose." Brock replied thoughtfully.

"Which is?" Persian prompted, quietly.

"We got married."

* * *

I was seventeen years old. In my first relationship, still a kid in so many ways, hardly ready for something as serious and as permanent as getting married but…I was in love. Madly, eternally, resolutely in love.

I got back to my room at the Centre at a ridiculous hour, something like three in the morning. Ash's loud snores filled the room as I snuck in, trying to prevent the door from creaking, it proved more difficult than it looked, and as I was shimmying through the tiny crack that the door was open it let out an eardrum ripping shriek. I cringed, waiting. Ash's snores hardly faltered. I sighed in relief.

I slipped in quickly and picked my way across the floor, before jumping straight into my bed. I expected to fall right amongst the sheets and then promptly into sleep but my luck was not so great. Someone else had been in my bed before me. And they were still there.

"AAAAAAH!" I leapt back, as I was screamed at right in the face.

"What the hell!" I yelped.

"What the hell!" Misty yelped back. "What the hell are you doing sneaking in here at this hour! It's three o' clock in the damn morning! Where the hell were you!" She was yelling so loudly but Ash continued to sleep. I felt my bones shaking from the shock of finding someone in my bed and the shock of being screamed at by said person.

"What were you doing in my bed, Misty? Isn't that a little inappropriate?" I hissed back, trying to lower the volume of our conversation.

She caught the hint and shout-whispered back. "I was waiting for you, idiot! And you didn't come back so I fell asleep. Sue me! Where were you anyway?"

I looked around for some kind of escape. I didn't know if I could tell Misty about Joy. She might think I was crazy. She might even think I was lying. I…I hadn't had the best luck in the past with Joys, or Jennies or any girls.

"Brock." Misty said after a while. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, Misty. It's…it's a long story."

"I have time since I'm not getting any sleep tonight apparently." She shrugged and sat back down on my bunk bed.

Sighing, I sat beside her and told her the story as her eyes got wider and wider.

"Brock that's the sweetest story ever. You really like her too, don't you?" Misty asked, smirking.

"I think I love her, Misty." I said, staring hard at a knot in the floorboards.

She stared at me hard as if trying to decide something. "Funnily enough, even after I've seen you go gaga for every girl walking down the street…I think I believe you."

I smiled back at her. "Thanks, Misty."

"So what are you guys going to do? I mean, we can't stay here forever. Ash and I wanted to ask you if you wouldn't mind leaving…" She completely brushed over the food fight they'd had earlier on in the day. "But now that I know why you're here I couldn't possibly ask you to leave." She looked hard at me, as if pressing me to give her some kind of solution.

"I don't know Misty. Maybe I should ask her if she wants to come with us?"

Misty suddenly looked stern. "Brock, she's a Joy. You know how restricted their lives are. It's like a cult. If you're born a Joy you can't leave the…the covenant! She'll never be able to leave."

"She's different, Misty."

My redheaded friend raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is she now? I mean she's a Joy."

I suddenly felt poisonous with rage. "It's not like you would understand, when have you ever been in love?"

Misty looked hurt for a millisecond but recovered quickly, launching into a rage just as quickly as I had. "No, Brock, I haven't. But at least I'm not in love with someone who I can never have."

I stood up abruptly. "Thanks for that, Misty." I didn't know what else to say, because I knew she was right but…I knew I couldn't let myself believe it. I left the room, wasn't sure where to go. I think I must have wandered around the city for hours. It was day time again when I realized I hadn't slept or eaten or even showered.

My pokegear had been buzzing in my pocket the whole night. I had almost twenty missed calls from Misty. I knew she felt bad. And I was sure she hadn't meant it but I still felt angry, still hurt.

She was calling again. So I answered.

"Hey."

"Brock? Oh thank god you answered, where are you? I'm sorry. Please come back." Misty's voice came out tinnily through the phone, her voice sounded thick so I was sure she'd been crying.

"Okay." I muttered then hung up.

The four of us sat eating breakfast, in silence. Pikachu and Ash were chattering happily but Misty and I were like black holes sucking the happiness out of everything around us. She and I exchanged glances. "I'm sorry." She muttered.

"It's okay." I replied.

Ash was oblivious. "Hey guys, do you think maybe today we can head out again? I'm itching for a new badge."

Misty looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. "Sure, but give me the morning? I have some things to sort out."

"You serious, Brocko?" Ash had to qualify.

I nodded.

"Yes! Finally!" Ash punched the air. "I'm getting me a new badge! Yeah!"

Misty smiled with her friend but sent Brock another worried glance. "You sure it's okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Ash cut in.

"It's fine." I smiled.

After breakfast I went in search of Joy. At this point I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I'd figured it out last night while I was walking around the city. She wasn't hard to find. I saw her behind the counter. She had bags under her eyes, but she was smiling widely. I could feel the energy simmering from her being.

I noticed another Joy, standing a slight ways away. She looked older, especially compared to my Joy, and she had this disapproving air about her. "Joy, please focus on your duties." She said, her voice clipped. I was surprised to see a Joy who was actually physically distinguished in appearance and actions. She had the undeniable grace and beauty of a Joy but her features were aged, her demeanor was cold.

"Yes, Miss." My Joy replied, averting her eyes and redoubling her efforts. Under these circumstances I was nervous. If I was meeting Joy's parents I wasn't sure I would feel so anxious. I approached slowly, as if the older Joy might attack me.

"Nurse Joy." I said, stepping up to the counter. My Joy looked up. Her eyes widened.

"H-how may I help you?" She said, not daring to look me in the eye with the older Joy standing right there. I knew how she felt, it was like if she looked at me everyone around us could see exactly how she felt. I felt that way for her.

I pulled out a pokeball, I had prepared it this morning. "My pokemon got a little beat up on the way here. I think he needs healing."

"Don't worry. He's in safe hands." Joy replied, taking the pokeball. I watched her as she put the pokeball through the regeneration machine. If there was a pokemon in the pokeball the machine was supposed to light up and nurse the pokemon back to health. The machine refused to work.

She looked back at me questioningly but I'd already started walking away. If I had stayed to watch, I would've seen how Joy opened the pokeball, and I would've seen the way her face froze, then slowly as the realization set in, began to light up. I would've seen how she snapped the pokeball shut, put it in her pocket, and then excused herself to run right after me.

I was not very far when she accosted me from behind. "Yes!" She said. "Of course!"

"Really?" I asked, holding her. She nodded firmly.

"I love you." I whispered, pulling her close.

"Me too." She replied.

* * *

Persian said quietly, "Brock, you were seventeen. You hardly knew her."

"I know…" Brock said, his face drawn even now five years later. "I regret it to be honest. Because I thought it would fix things, but it just made things so much worse. She came with us, on our travels. Just for a short while because eventually we left the group to go back to Pewter City. Ash and Misty, and my family came to the wedding. It was a small pretty ceremony. Not a single Joy attended. "

"You're a regular Romeo and Juliet, Brocko…" Persian sighed.

"Yeah, it's a tragedy in the end…" Brock replied, morosely.

* * *

Joy and I moved to Pewter City full time. I could afford a decent apartment from the money I'd made from the years I'd been a gym leader. She stayed at home while I worked at the gym. It was only a part-time thing, I wasn't the official leader, but when my brother Forest took a break or went away for a week of training I'd take over. That's pretty much how we survived. It was good for a while. My part-time job meant I could spend a lot of time with Joy. And if I did have to leave she would always welcome me back with a wide smile. But I noticed she would become melancholy when I looked away, her happy face suddenly passive. I knew she was lonely, when we married she cut ties with her family and her friends. The entire Joy encapsulate that she had once belonged to was suddenly gone and she found herself an individual who knew what it was to be lonely. Every gift I brought her, every bouquet of flowers was an apology from me, I felt terrible because it was all my fault that she was alone, but they also became a reminder to her that I knew she was unhappy and all that would do would make her try harder.

One day as I came in through the door I saw Joy sitting by the window, staring out. It was early evening, so the sky still had light enough for me to see the tears on her face and the expression of total horror in her soft features. I closed the door, and it clicked, the sound of which usually alerted her to my presence but she didn't seem to hear, as she held herself tightly and rocked. I felt a chill go down my spine. I had never seen this side of her. I was scared she had broken…or something worse.

"Joy?" I whispered, feeling my voice hitch in my throat. With wide stantler-in –the- headlights eyes she slowly turned to look at me. Her blue eyes were so blank I knew she couldn't see me. I could see, though, the tear tracks on her face, the tight lines of strain, her whole body trembling like a leaf. I moved closer, wondering at the way she instantly gravitated towards me, wrapping her cold arms around me, and tightly gripping me like I was some kind of lifebuoy.

"Joy?" I asked again, softly stroking her hair. She stirred slightly, looking at me with some kind of recognition.

"I'm so sorry, Brock." She mumbled, holding me, if possible, tighter.

"Why?" I whispered back, still stroking her hair.

"I forgot to make dinner." She replied.

I frowned. "That's okay, Joy. I'll make dinner tonight. You know I wouldn't get angry with you…"

"But it's not okay. I didn't make dinner because…"

"What?"

"Because one of my cousins came looking for me. And I let her in. And she wants me to come back. And she's sending the… elder Joy…and now I've disappointed you…What if we have to leave? They won't let me stay." _I'm a Joy, I belong to everyone, and I am no one…_

My stomach clenched as she told me. What if I lost her? What if I lost her forever? And I knew when I saw that Head Joy on the day Joy and I got engaged, that she would be trouble. So in order to protect my own feelings, and to protect her I began to whisper over and over, "I'll always protect you, Joy. As long as you want to be with me I'll make sure it happens. I'll always protect you…"

But I couldn't. I came home one day and the house was empty. She had left no note. Her clothes were gone. Somehow even her sweet scent had been sucked from the air in our house. It was as if she never existed. I searched for days and then weeks and then months, but she had been reabsorbed into Joy society. That same year, Ash became Champion of the Kanto league. I didn't even attend the ceremony or the final battle. I was getting drunk in some town bar. I don't remember the name of the bar or the town. I don't remember much at all from that period except the overwhelming loss, like a missing limb or even death. Misty was furious with me, perhaps because I had neglected Ash or perhaps because I hadn't been around much. She herself was going through a rough time, all of her advances towards Ash had failed. The young Pokemon Master had a long way to go before he mastered relationships. I heard she was dating- all high profile trainers and gym leaders- but they didn't last long. Eventually I heard nothing. We were all too far apart. I was completely alone. All my passion was gone.

Eventually I decided to sell the house Joy and I had bought and move back in with my family. It took me less than a day to pack everything up: we were young and hadn't acquired much. While I was directing the movers, who were lifting our bed, I noticed there had been something lying beneath it. It was a Bandit Poser diskette. When I picked it up I noticed someone had written in permanent ink over Bandit Poser's printed face. _I'll love you forever. Joy. _

Needless to say, I became obsessed with Bandit Poser and rap. It was the only thing that brought me closer to Joy. I played the album over and over and over again, until every nuance, every note, every lyric was deeply embedded within me, echoing deeper and deeper into my soul and etching Joy's memory into every part of me. But it wasn't enough. It would never be. Some nights I wrote my own songs. Songs that recalled Joy, summoned her in my mind's eye, or songs that called out to her across the distance between us. I told her everything, about everything that had happened to me since we'd been apart, about everything that hadn't happened, about the depthless ache that shook my entire being, that vast chasm she had left by her absence, the loss of all my senses that had left me dull and broken without her. In this manner I put myself back together, painstakingly, painfully weaved myself into coherence.

As time went on I'd begun to formulate a scheme in my mind. It was farfetched, but possible. I would publish my songs, become famous and renowned, so much so that wherever Joy was and whatever she was doing she would at some point hear me. She would know that I had not and would not forget her, and that I was waiting for her. It didn't matter how bad a rapper or musician I was, I would achieve my goal, I would have her hear me. I began to promote myself, I chased fame, I met music producers, sound artists, radio jockeys, talk show hosts, got my first song played on the air, got a record deal and to my own surprise eventually became quite well known, famous and even worshipped. Before I knew it I had more money than I knew what to do with, more fans than I ever guessed there were people in the world, so much fame that I could not leave my house without being recognized and so much airtime that even I grew sick of hearing my own songs. I knew, I just knew that somewhere out there Joy was listening, and my songs were just for her.

But she never responded. Never made it known that she'd heard me. For all I knew I was singing into the air. By that time, I was having trouble with fanatical fans. I was seeking to hire a permanent security guard, someone who had a lot of experience. I was surprised to meet James, who had remarkably become a police cop. He was a familiar face and for that reason I trusted him. I was perhaps lonely and starved for anything that resembled my life before Joy and before fame. This was by no means a bad thing: James and I quickly became best friends. After all, we had something in common: we were both looking for women we loved.

But neither of us were successful. James' could sate his longing through romance novels but I have, unfortunately, always been more…energetic. It didn't help that I had beautiful, willing fans who would love to have a chance to claim B-rock for themselves. Many of them claimed me, sometimes more than once but it never lasted. I knew deep down that there was only one woman for me. Joy. _I'll love you forever, Joy. _

Now I arrive at the present. Here I am. But she isn't here. She can't be. We can't be together no matter what. The end.

* * *

"It's not." Persian said, firmly. "It's not the end yet."

* * *

**A/n: **But it is the end of the chapter. Believe it or not this was originally longer, and it featured a longer, really crackficcy version of the Ash/Misty food fight. I cut it out because it detracted from the more emotional aspect of Brock's story. Anyway, please review if you liked this chapter. I should update part three very soon. Thank you!


	9. Act II: Part Four

**A/N: **We're about one chapter away from Act III now.

* * *

**Tragic Kingdom: Act II**

**Chapter 8: Sinking**

_Better by far you should forget and smile_

_Than that you should remember and be sad._

* * *

James made sure that Jessie was in a deep sleep before he slipped quietly out of the bed and out of the room. The two gaurds were dozing; Growly opened an eye and watched James leave. James motioned for him to keep a close eye on Jessie. Growly nodded. James closed the door and stepped into the corridor.

His gun was heavy on his hip. He felt like a detective again. He rarely wore the thing these days: there was no need. Brock's hectic schedule had relaxed somewhat, and James thought it more practical to carry a pokeball anyway. He headed straight to the dining hall, breakfast would almost be over, and the kitchen and staff would be preparing for lunch.

He was right, the restaurants were emptying out. Only the last stragglers were still finishing off their eggs and bacon, ordering the last glass of orange juice. He made a beeline for the _Waterlily_, where he suspected he would either find this Mortaguy himself or might be able to get a staff member, a disgruntled waitress, to point him in the right direction. Or he might just have an early lunch and wait for the fly to come to him.

He stood at the entrance, casting a sharp eye over the diners. He knew who to look for from Jessie's description, and if he was unsure he could always look for the little blonde daughter that Mortaguy always toted. He was about to choose and table and order lunch when suddenly a flash of red caught his eye, and someone was standing in front of him, smirking in deep, sick satisfaction.

"If it isn't my old friend, James," Redman said, smiling widely. "I've been waiting for a reunion for a long, long time." He said through gritted teeth.

"Likewise," James said calmly.

"The mouse thinks he has cats' claws," Redman said. "Weak, spineless James. That's how I always remember you. Then for a time I knew you as the _snitch. _I'm not the only one who has wanted to reunite with you. You have a lot of friends in Vermillion Prison."

"I was about to ask, how did you get out, Redman? Who did Giovanni have to bribe?" James asked.

"It doesn't matter does it? I'm here now. Giovanni was very, very angry about my imprisonment. I daresay he would personally love to see you get your just desserts," Redman said. "As for myself, I know where to really stick the dagger."

"What do you mean?" James asked, watching Redman as he casually picked up a menu and began to peruse it.

"I'm well aware we're not the only Rockets on this ship," Redman said slowly, sneering. James felt his stomach clench as hard as if someone had punched him. "I know someone who'd be very interested to know that Jessie is here. Someone who has _missed_ her dearly."

"If you so much as touch her!" James shouted, starting forward, fists clenched.

"Jealous, are we?" Redman sneered. "I'll do far more than touch her, I assure you."

James did not remember what happened next. All he heard was a roaring in his ears. The next thing he remembered seeing was Redman on the floor, beside an upturned table, his nose bloodied, the sounds of people screaming in the background, and shattered porcelain and glass all over the floor. James had a hand on his gun, and he was breathing heavily.

"You're dead," James said softly to Redman. "Start counting the last seconds of your life."

Redman just smiled widely, mocking James.

Burly security personnel were now charging through the restaurant. Both James and Redman were in handcuffs within seconds. James did not take his eyes off Redman as they were lead away. Redman did not stop smiling.

* * *

After hearing Brock's long story, Persian was thoughtful. He went back to the medical wing later that day, just out of curiosity. There was only one Joy there when he got there, and she looked so absolutely morose that he almost didn't recognize her as a Joy. At the sight of him, she forced a smile onto her soft features and welcomed him. Persian knew instantly. This was Brock's Joy.

"Hello, there, my name is Joy, do you need any assistance?" She asked him.

"No, I don't think so." He answered.

"You talk?" She gaped. Again, very un-Joy-like.

"I do. So do you." He pointed out.

She couldn't resist a small smile. "I suppose I do. I hope I don't offend you but…you're unusual. I suppose I am too compared to other people, but in other ways…I'm not unusual - I'm a Joy after all." She paused, seemingly uncertain of how to continue. "May I study you? I'm sorry – I"

"Yeah, keep your panties on," He wouldn't normally have said yes, but she was so deliciously awkward and he wanted to know more about her. "Or don't."

She raised an eyebrow and said, in his opinion, rather sassily. "Why, we hardly know each other." She tapped an examination table, and he understood she wanted him to climb on it.

He obliged. "I like a woman who gives orders."

She smiled. "You'd love me at a restaurant."

He snorted reluctantly. She was funny. He could see why Brock had liked her. Why he had thought she was different. She leaned closer to him, and began studying him with all sorts of devices. A stethoscope, a magnifying glass, a thermometer. She touched his throat, and looked into his mouth. All the while muttering things like "remarkable", "amazing" and "fascinating."

"I'm all that and more, baby," He purred. She smiled serenely and continued measuring the distance between his eyes.

But as the examination went on he noticed her expression became more concerned. Finally, she put all her tools down, and excused herself.

He waited, feeling strangely anxious. His thoughts about Brock were receding to the back of his mind.

She came back with a needle.

"Er, Doc, I'm not scheduled for shots for… another hundred years…" He said, concerned.

"I'm not giving you an injection. I'm going to take blood." She said, her brow furrowed, as she looked for a vein. He pulled away.

"Why?" He asked.

"After studying you, I noticed you have some worrying symptoms. I just want to test your blood...okay?" She said.

"What worrying symptoms?" He asked, annoyed at the fear that was creeping into his voice. She drew the blood, he hardly noticed.

"Please wait," She said, taking the sample into the backroom and once more leaving him alone in the examination room.

He waited for what felt like ages. All his lives seemed to slip into oblivion. She returned, looking grim.

"Break it to me gently, Doc," He said to her, half-jokingly.

She pulled a chair up to the examination table, took his paw and sat down. "Persian, I found the presence of a particular virus in your blood…"

After that he felt as if he had slipped into a dream, could hardly see or hear anything except as if from a great distance, or through a thick fog.

"…Fast acting virus…"

"…Debilitating, deadly…"

"…I'd give you a year at best…"

_A year…_

_A year… _

_That's all I have left?_

* * *

After waiting for Misty to return for a while, Ash eventually gave up and decided he was too hungry to stay in his room. He washed and dressed; feeling uneasy, and then made his way to the dining hall. There seemed to be some sort of commotion, he spotted Misty and began to walk towards her. She looked very distressed, and dishevelled. He was surprised to see that she hadn't changed her clothes.

He was making his way through the small crowd of Misty's flustered looking staff and crew, when the crowd parted. He saw that Misty was standing with Rudy. He was gesticulating passionately, and had a bouquet of roses in one hand. Despite her attention being demanded by almost everyone arm's length, Misty seemed to be talking to Rudy, in between giving out various orders. Ash could see the conversation was intense.

Ash was too annoyed by Rudy's presence to even bother with talking to Misty anymore. He turned around, decided to order room service before going to the ship's gym to train until he ran out of sweat.

His heart was thudding, and he felt sick to his stomach. Even if Misty seemed irritated by Rudy's advances what if she decided to go back to him? Ash knew he had never brought Misty roses, and she had always liked that kind of romantic gesture. He soon felt convinced that he was completely ill suited to her, she deserved better than him. This knowledge did not, however, stop him from wanting her.

He returned to his room to find Pikachu had, somehow, already ordered food. The yellow mouse was watching TV, it was a show about computer monsters who could transform into stronger versions of themselves at will and fight evil with the help of their human partners. Ash was not too sure what differentiated them from Pokemon but Pikachu was insistent that this was one of his favourite shows so Ash didn't query further.

Ash sat down on the bed to eat. Pikachu glanced over at him. It was an ad break.

"Pikaa…" He said.

"It was nothing, Pikachu. She was just upset last night."

"Pikachupi….Pikapi Pikachu," The mouse said with a coy smile.

"No, nothing happened, seriously," Ash frowned, eating his food as if it had done him a mortal wrong. "Wanna train after this?" He asked Pikachu.

The mouse nodded. "Pikachu…"

"Fine, it's almost over right?"

Pikachu nodded. Ash settled in to wait until the show was done. Before that could happen the phone rang. Pikachu's ear twitched in irritation.

Ash took the phone off the hook, and didn't answer. He knew it could only be Misty. He just didn't feel up to talking to her at that moment.

* * *

That night, Brock was clearing up his cabin of the empty plates of food that he and Persian had eaten. The cat had left earlier, and Brock had continued to lie in bed ruminating before he got up to clean. He felt exhausted after telling Persian everything. He just felt empty now, except for the anger towards the Head Joy. He couldn't help analyzing every word she had said, wondering if it was true. He was fuming, and could feel his rage just under his skin, about to boil over. He saw his hands as if they belonged to someone else, saw them shaking violently. He put the plate he was holding down on the table beside the door. Then, before even he could register it, he picked it up and threw it. It hit the opposite wall, amongst the row of portholes. The shatter of porcelain resounded inside him, soothing, and provoking him all at once. He found he was breathing hard, too hard. He didn't throw anything more, and instead just stood for what felt like a millennium, just breathing.

He almost didn't register the soft knock on his door.

He turned angrily, and wrenched open the door. He was about to bark at whoever had dared disturb him at this time, but he was stunned into silence.

"Oh…baby, you cut your hand," She said, and stepped into his arms.

He picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and their lips met with crushing passion. His hand ran through her hair, her soft pink hair, and the other one held her firmly against him at her hips. Her lips were light, kissing him all over, his lips, his neck, his bare chest. He couldn't remember when his shirt came off.

He inhaled the scent of her, the soft powdery scent of flowers. He -

They lay intertwined later, her head rested on his chest as it used to. Her hair curled sensuously across it, sometimes tickling his nose. Her hand trailed along his torso, playing games on his skin. Her other hand was caught in his, his thumb gently stroked her the soft place between her forefinger and thumb.

"God, I missed you," She said. "It's like I forgot to breathe all these years."

"Why did you leave?" He said, quietly.

"I never left. I was taken. How could you think I could ever leave you?" She asked. "My grandmother kept me under surveillance for years after she took me away. My sisters, my cousins they were my jailers. I tried to come back. Every time I heard one of your songs, my heart bled. I cannot describe the pain I felt to you. I stopped listening to the radio. It hurt too much." She snorted with wry amusement. "They really overplay your songs…"

He smiled in the darkness. His hand roamed over her soft back. "But you knew…I never forgot you."

"Eventually I wanted you to… then at least one of us would be happy," She said.

Then she reached over him, her breasts grazing his stomach. There was a music system installed in the room. "Thank god for this ostentatious room you're in." She grabbed the remote from the side table, and pressed play. Immediately, familiar music flooded the room.

"Bandit Poser," they both breathed appreciatively and then giggled.

He pulled her on top of him, and held her. She looked down at him, smiling. There were tears in her eyes. "If I'm dreaming…" She let the threat trail off, as he kissed her again.

"When did you know I was on the ship with you?" Brock asked.

"Let's say round about the time, you picked a shouting match with my Grandmother. I could hear it even from the nurses' quarters. They wouldn't let me out. I've been on early morning duty, graveyard shift, 'cause Granny still doesn't trust me and worse, now she knows you're on the ship. I'm supposed to be guarded around the clock. But my cousin got sea sick and had to go – well you know – I was thinking about running off…but I was scared. I just wondered if you hated me after all these years…or if you had changed…or I don't know I… so anyway this Pokemon walks in. He was quite cheeky at first, but then it turned out he had a blood disease…I don't even want to know where he got it from. Nasty stuff… But I just realized then…if some Pokemon could just come in fine one moment and dying the next, what...if I didn't come to you? I'd never ever know…So I came. The rest…is history, I guess," As usual she was nothing like the other Joys he had met. Her manner of speaking, so frank. Her expressions so ungoverned. She smiled down at him. She looked exquisitely beautiful, more beautiful than he could ever remember.

"Never ever leave me," He whispered.

"I may have to for awhile. But I'll be back," She said, with such certainty.

"But what if they never let you go?"

"I know, and you know, that we won't let that happen ever again," She kissed him. He knew then, he would never let her go.

* * *

It all happened like a dream. Persian wandered the blue corridors in a haze. He had escaped death for so long and yet it had caught up with him once more. This time he couldn't talk his way out. So he walked, wondering if he would ever see all he wanted to see, needed to see, if he had felt enough or done enough or known enough. At the same time, did it even matter? His entire life had occurred and played out in a manner that was completely out of his control. At every turn someone else had made the call, things he had not wanted to happen had happened, things he had wanted to happen had never come to pass. He knew he had been a mere droplet in the great ocean, subject to tides far greater than himself. At this point did it even matter if he was here or there, dead or alive?

Suddenly, like a pink angel crossing his path, he perceived that perhaps it did matter, at the very least, if he was here or there. If he had been there, he might not have seen the young Nurse Joy padding barefoot through the corridors in the middle of the night. Her hair was not in its usual neat loops, but trailing down her back in mussy waves. She was moving quickly towards the hospital wing (he presumed), presumably to get back before anyone noticed she had very clearly not been on duty. He followed her. It was the right thing to do. For the reason that she was the only person who knew he was dying, and perhaps she would talk with him about it.

But before they'd even entered the small clinic, someone grabbed the Joy out of the shadows and pushed her against the doorframe. Persian disappeared into the darkness, but he kept watch.

"_Ju ve dre, Jou jiyu joy un ve je me la, joyule, Joyulangma?" _It was a language that Persian had heard about only through the stories Chanseys tell. The language of Joys. He was an adept linguist and understood it.

"At this point I think there is only one way for this to end, isn't there, _Joyulangma? _" Persian saw the older Joy, she held the younger painfully by the forearm.

"_Mala Joy_, I have been utterly obedient to you for years now. What is so wrong with loving him? He's a good man. He loves me." The younger Joy said back, also in Joyese.

"He is not one of us. He doesn't know our ways. I've told you this. If you stay with him you must give up our ways. You will never have a child that looks like you. You will have no Joy for your life after you die," The older Joy said through gritted teeth. "Do you want that?"

"I don't care about having a Joy to come after me. I don't want to be a Joy anymore!"

"You were born one, you are one, and you have duties to your kind. What of the Pokemon who will die and suffer because you have turned away from your calling, your duties, your self?"

"There are so many _selajoy _and _selamalajoy _to take my place! And you're the one making me give it all up! I'd still do it and be with Brock!"

Persian hissed in the shadows but thankfully the sound was masked by the older Joy slamming her fist against the wall. To his surprise her hand glowed a little (much like the machines that healed Pokemon) and the wall buckled a little beneath her first.

"Don't say his name to me!"

Persian took a step back.

"If you see him one more time, you will face the consequences. I have been merciful with you all these years. Very merciful. Heed my warning, _Joyulangma._" There was a bright light in the older Joy's eyes. She was absolutely terrifying as she towered over the younger Joy. Even Persian felt afraid. He had also not known that the Joys' possessed powers beyond those of an ordinary human. If he had been afraid to go the doctor before, now he was terrified.

There was a silence as the younger Joy seemed to stare back into her elder's eyes. Persian could not see her face. But he saw her defiant body language and then he heard the clear, strong voice say: "Perhaps I have been merciful to you. But no longer. I am my own _person-"_

The older Joy hit her hard across the face. Persian felt the slap reverberate in the empty room.

Then in a quiet voice she said, "Go to bed."

The younger Joy stayed where she was and then reluctantly complied. The older Joy watched her go, and then followed but not before looking right into the darkness where Persian stood.

* * *

After having Portsy scrambling around looking for him for two whole days, Misty had finally got ahold of Ash (she found him in the gym), and had him seated in front of her, in the great cabin. Her cabin. She had a study where she did most of her work, and that's where she seated them. She knew she had to have a large desk separating her body from Ash's because she knew she would have no control if they were any closer. He was slightly obscured by the paper work on her desk. Again, it was strategic, his expressions…his eyes were too enticing to her.

"So where were you yesterday?" She asked him.

"Where were _you _yesterday?" He shot back. "With Rudy?"

"No!"

"I saw you with him at the dining hall."

"Fine, but I wasn't with him. I ran into him."

"And then?"

"Why does it matter? I don't want to talk about it. There was so much going -"

"Misty-" He said in exasperation. "Why did you come to my room the other night?"

"I was upset."

"Why?"

"Because...I don't know."

"Why?"

They stared each other down.

There was a short knock at the door. Ash and Misty exchanged a glance. "Come in, " She said. The door opened to reveal the stern face of the Head Joy. Misty stood up reflexively. "Nurse Joy."

"Captain Waterflower," The nurse said in clipped tones.

"Please sit down, Nurse, how can I help you?" Misty said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"That would not be necessary, Captain," The Joy said. Misty stared at her expectantly. Ash watched in bemusement. Misty had not told him about what had happened early that day, when she had been forced to leave his room to go and interrupt Brock's altercation with the Joys.

"Turn the ship around, Captain," The Joy said simply.

Misty blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I request that you turn the ship around and take us back to port. Certain situations have arose that make it impossible for the Joys to stay aboard the ship," The Joy stared right at Misty, unblinkingly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Nurse, and neither can you. We have a contract and you have a duty to the lives of the people and Pokemon on this ship. We won't be turning around,"

"It was not stipulated in this contract that we would be harassed by your passengers, or should I say friends. I have every right to leave the ship after the disgusting behavior I've suffered today," The Head Joy said softly but somehow menacingly.

Misty had to bite her tongue, as she could feel the rage building inside her. She felt personally offended on Brock's behalf, and furious that this woman, after all she had done, would continue to cause trouble.

"So you would let the Pokemon suffer because you can't handle the pressure?" Ash asked, indignantly. "What kind of nurses are you?"

"The best, Mr Ketchum," Joy replied. "We will not be abandoning the Pokemon, because this cruise will not continue once we leave."

Misty growled. "The nerve of you! Do I need to remind you whose ship you're on? You're at my mercy not the other way round!" Ash stood up, and Pikachu who had been napping in the corner – it was late and he had been dragged out of bed - was awake now, watching with round eyes.

The Head Joy did not even seem flustered. She continued to regard Misty with cool eyes. "I had hoped you would be reasonable." She rose. "You are dealing with things you don't and can't understand. You might regret this oneday. Then I will pity you, Misty." She left. At the door she said, "Good day." The door closed with a significant click.

"The hell it is, _Joy_," Misty muttered.

"What was that?" Ash asked, looking incredulously at Misty.

"That was me getting involved in Brock's business."

"Brock? Is this about…?" Ash asked.

"Yes," Misty replied.

"It's been years, can't they just leave it alone?" Ash asked.

"Pikaaa…" Pikachu added, frowning.

"This isn't something you leave alone, Ash. You know what it means to Brock. I just wish it didn't have to be so painful, I wish she could just keep her nose out of other people's business." Misty crossed her arms and sighed angrily.

Outside, the ship continued cutting the waves. _The Waterflower _would not sink or turn back yet.

* * *

**A/N: **So a lot has happened in this chapter…the aftermath will be huge. How will everyone deal with it? Stay tuned for the next chapter, and don't forget to review :)


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